


Mouth of the River

by brieflyshystarfish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Swan Queen Week, Swan Queen Week Summer 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflyshystarfish/pseuds/brieflyshystarfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina's magic starts popping off mysteriously & she wakes in a hospital. Emma goes on this journey of Figuring This Mystery Out with Regina, because Emma always goes on all the journeys with Regina. They start as friends. But: as we all know: Swan Queen. </p><p>Started in response to Swan Queen Week 7 Summer 2016. Prompt: Illness</p><p>***COMPLETE***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> There's nothing explicit about this chapter; the rating holds for later chapters. The first chapter is short & others will be of variable length--a couple will be longer.

“Regina,” Emma called.

Regina heard Emma’s voice--faintly, as if at great distance--before the popping behind her eyelids resumed, gathering in intensity until all Regina felt was a field of ragged explosions sparkling and beating--a river made of swaths of electric currents, or barrels of lead--pounding their way through her limbs. Through each vein. Centering and gathering now: yes, oh, this sensation was costing her something terrible. In her chest. 

Incoherently, Regina thought, it's not painful, but it's not not painful. 

"Regina."

Regina also found, curiously, that she couldn't move, that the impulse to move a limb or muscle resulted in ... nothing. Like trying to pop bread down in an unplugged toaster, the commands Regina announced internally just bounced back to her, unsatisfied and undone. Not even a twitch. She told, then scolded, her horrifically unlistening eyes to squint or open dammit, but neither complied. 

"We're gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hang on." Snow. And she heard David there too, murmuring something just out of range. 

Get me out of where? she wondered, and then stopped wondering as an explosion of pain socked then sucked through her body. 

Everything--the voices first, then the fireworks, arching dumb and dimmer yet still beautiful above and within her--faded. 

_____

She awoke to beeping.

Regina assumed this was a good sign--heaven wouldn't have hospitals and hell wouldn't have machines to help. She snarled internally at herself. Who cared. What was going on? 

She tried to lift herself--and exploded into a new, twisting, shattering kind of pain. God! Was EVERY bone in this body broken?

She tried to summon her magic but a fresh wave broke over her and she could do nothing but hang on. Arms gripped her and lowered her--she could smell, to a scent of--

Emma? 

"Regina, lay down," Emma's voice instructed, in a voice was edged with panic. "Just--Shhhhh. Lay there, okay?" Then, muffled, as if she was speaking in another direction, "She's awake," followed by Emma's voice leaning in close to Regina's ear, close enough to breathe and feel, and Regina felt her stomach twist unexpectedly at Emma's proximity. 

Regina tried to speak but nothing came. Anger flooded her. Unacceptable, to be this helpless. She tried ferociously to hear whatever Emma was trying to tell her, and faded out again. 

______

This time, her eyes sprung open exactly on command. The figures in the room around her were hazy, but there. Regina held still, determined to stay conscious as long as she could. Who was here? 

Not Henry. Emma. Whale. Ugh, Whale. Snow. 

Snow was gesturing at Whale. "--This! This is not an actual hospital! He isn't an actual doctor! Of all people, Emma, I can't believe you're arguing to keep her--"

Emma cut her off. "We can't just put her in a car right now! Look at her! And I'm afraid to poof her anywhere without not knowing what's going--"

"Emma, this is not the time." Snow's voice was firm, uncompromising. "She's human, not immortal. We live strange lives but that doesn't mean things can't happen. She needs a real doctor."

Regina knew Emma well enough to feel Emma waver. Emma didn't reply, not right away. But when she did, all she said was, "Henry can't lose his mother, Mom. I guess I am--I feel cautious."

"Kinda funny right? To be arguing about how to save the Evil Queen? I mean, maybe she's dead already." Whale. Fucking Whale. 

"Not dead yet, dear," Regina said in the sickest voice imaginable. Good LORD, she thought. "I sound terrible."

"Regina," said Snow, totally unnecessarily. 

"Hey," Emma said, rushing over, leaning both hands on the guardrail, and peering over at Regina. Her eyes were soft, fathomless, and her hand reached out towards Regina's hair then retracted, remembering itself. "Are you okay? Should you be talking? What hurts? What happened?"

"Emma, let her breathe," said Snow. "Regina, we're glad to see you're awake."

Whale snapped on some latex gloves. "Okay, let me take a look--" 

"No," all three women exclaimed. Regina shuddered. 

"Regina, what do you remember?" Snow asked, once Whale had left. 

Regina told them. In detail. And then she said, "I don't remember the last few hours. I remember waking up and preparing breakfast for myself and Henry. And I remember leaving the house but I don't know why. And now I'm here." She smoothed the sheets around her, suddenly anxious, simultaneously utterly relieved at her ability to move without restriction. No pain. And yet: "I don't know," Regina confessed. "I don't know."

"Hey, hey," Emma said, reaching down--not to touch Regina, quite, but to smooth over the already-smoothed part of the sheet. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out. We've figured everything else out so far," she continued, biting her lip and smiling. She gestured around her. "We've practically conquered this entire realm. That's what you call it, right? Realm conquering?"

Regina's lip turned up despite itself. "Dear, we have done no such thing. I believe in democracy now. That's what you call it, right? The common good and all that crap."

Emma smiled at her in that bright way she reserved for the queen. 

Regina allowed herself a moment to meet Emma's eyes, sparkling, and then turned her gaze to Snow, who was watching them both curiously, recognition dawning and receding just on the horizon of Snow's pretty green eyes. 

"You had gone to the forest," Emma was saying. "Henry followed you there. You didn't leave a note. He was worried--he happened to see you. And you walked in and you fell. And he went to you first and then he called me and Mom and David were with me. David lifted you and brought you in. I sent him back to the office. And came here with Mom."

Regina lifted her hand to her head: a dizzying shining popping was coalescing behind her brow. "I don't--I don't know why I was there." She closed her eyes, willing the thing to stop. 

Regina felt Emma's hand, blessedly, finally, glancing a touch against Regina's wrist. She heard Emma say her name, but again at great distance, and the waves sucked her under.


	2. Unlocking the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fearsome duo figure out sort of what is going on and have a vague idea but no concrete Yes as to how to fix it all. In which our fearful duo manage to tangle fingers briefly and like it. Also in which hospitals suck but in this story, the people in it are doing their best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sort of angsty. yes, angsty. 
> 
> it'll get better. 
> 
> i believe in happy endings.

The day nurse assigned to Regina's room at Mass General was an older Cape Verdean woman who took Regina's vitals with practiced, warm efficiency, humming to herself and noting numbers out loud whether or not Regina's eyes were open or closed. Her name was Donna, and although she did not linger or speak too much, giving Regina the space she needed to fade in and out, she did often touch Regina's wrist, a soothing gesture that somehow tightened Regina's stomach and also made her feel as much at ease as she could be. 

Earlier that day, Donna had asked, "Spanish, right? Latino?" On the third word, her voice had slowed down slightly, as if to get the word right. This, Regina sensed, was another form a care. To call somebody by their right name. 

This had happened to her before, the questioning, this racial placing, which Regina had come to understand, in this world, laden with humans and animals who could not talk to one another, was a question much more definitive and deep than the Enchanted Forest's "where are you from?" which, while class-connoting, somehow in that fairytalelandia had lacked this second and profound kind of hierarchy and categorization. Empires here were built not on the whims of an Evil Queen or the placating (and misguided, Regina thought) benevolence of somebody like Snow, but on bodies, physical bodies ground into the earth generation after generation without recourse and whose resistances bloomed in myriad ways but who were still more often than not outgunned and outmanned. That's what this world was. There was a violence here that connected itself to the question rising from Donna's mouth. And, Regina was realizing, here was much to this world that she was just learning that was different from the one she had come from. 

Or maybe, as a royal, she hadn't noticed. Maybe she had whitewashed the Enchanted Forest all on her own. 

Letting these thoughts flow quickly one by one through her mind, Regina waited a moment, then responded, "No." 

Donna said, "What then?"

Regina had closed her eyes again, an intense pressure building at her temples. "Not from here," she mumbled softly.

Donna's voice was edged with laughter. "Nobody is, dear. Okay," and she drew up the blankets around Regina's chin. "I won't bother you with my questions any more today. Rest up, and I will see you before I leave for the night, okay?"

"Thank you," Regina said. 

Never in her life had she been in this role--caretaken yes, she lived in that godforsaken palace for so long--but as injured as her body was now? No. At the mercy of strangers--not strangers--humans who were doing all they could for her? No. 

She heard Donna pause at the door, and say something in a quiet voice to somebody, a woman? Regina caught Donna's voice saying--she's sleeping now--and--Emma's response--could I just sit beside her--and then something and then--you are a good friend--and then Emma was there, all hair and barely-kept concern and leaning over the bed, quietly and tentatively, "Regina?"

She was drifting, and to be sure, the shocks hadn't happened in a bit of time, and perhaps it was the morphine cooling her system, or something, but a flood of tenderness arched up and through her, a warmth in her belly that sprang to her fingertips and palms, glistening them and prickling them as Regina opened her eyes to take Emma into them. 

"You're awake," Emma smiled down easily. "Hey, so your doctor told me something I want to tell you, okay?"

Regina nodded brusquely, stomach twisting again, and Emma stepped closer. "They said that they've figured some stuff out and want to talk to you later."

"Not exactly new information, Emma," Regina said, her voice sounding rougher than she had thought it would. 

"No, there's more," Emma said, and she shifted her feet a little, and Regina took her in, replying much more gently, "It's okay, whatever it is, okay? Just spit it out."

Emma's eyes dropped a moment and then they lifted with usual courage. "Well, that you'll be here for ... awhile, probably. That there will be treatment options but that you're ... not stable to move anywhere."

"Well, we'll see about that."

Emma's eyes dropped again and she stayed quiet. 

"Emma, I'm not dying, and I'm definitely not dead, whatever Whale wants or said. Or whatever the doctors said. I have magic, remember," and she lifted her arm, flourishing a weak purple fuzz in her hands--lord, maybe this wasn't the best display--"And we'll figure this out and I'll be back home soon. Where are the rest? Where is Henry?"

"He's at the hotel with Snow. I wanted him to sleep."

Right. They'd arrived last night, and Regina remembered very little of it, just Emma holding her upright while they poofed, all four of them--Henry, Emma, Regina, and Snow--onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital, and thank God nobody saw them. Emma called out sharply to an EMT on the curb, who ushered Regina into a wheelchair, and then she had passed out, for good, for hours, until the early morning when Donna had opened the blinds and Regina had awoken to a watery and cold Boston sunrise. 

"Good morning, dear. Your family is here," Donna had said, motioning at the other bed in the room, where Snow and Henry were curled up fast asleep, Henry curving in to Snow's body and Snow laying on her back with one hand around Henry and one hand on her own stomach, somehow space enough for both of them on the narrow mattress. Regina turned her gaze towards the yellow chair bedside, Emma sprawled fairly ungracefully, hair spread everywhere and head tilted back and mouth open but somehow gorgeously open, body tensed and twitching a bit in dream. 

Regina tore her eyes away after a moment, feeling a tenderness buzz in her, to regard Donna. "Where am I?" 

And Donna had answered, and they had talked a bit, and Donna had explained the dizzy feeling, not the Emma-one but the dizzy feeling where Regina felt like she was swimming and riding above the clouds, and Donna showed her the IV filled with glucose and water and the second drip, with a bit of morphine, and then Regina had laid back in bed with Donnna's gentle prodding, understanding the buzzing and the closeness she felt was partially drug-induced and partly that in a rare moment Regina found herself feeling simultaneously vulnerable and safe, in a room filled with people who--loved her. 

When she lay back, Regina's eyes had turned towards Emma again and she fell asleep facing her, so she never knew that when Emma woke up the younger woman's eyes had traced Regina's face with an identical breathless softness so intense that Snow had said, "Emma?" in that faintly wondering way, and Emma had shaken herself up and said, "I think we're all okay here," and Henry had regarded her solemnly and said, "Ma, is she going to be alright?" gesturing at Regina's tiny form nestled into the blankets, wrist turned up and taped to the thin vein of clear fluid marching into her. 

"Yeah, kid, she's going to be fine," Emma had said. "We're in the best hospital in the world. Now let's get you some food, yeah?" 

And everybody believed her. And they had left. 

____

 

When the doctors came, there came en masse. Several were residents, which Regina took to mean that they were students, which was and wasn't exactly true, and the primary doctor, a short woman with salt and pepper hair, had said, with all of these people in tow, "Ms. Mills, we have some preliminary results. We will need to do more testing, a CT scan, and a bit more bloodwork. Your white blood cell count is extraordinarily low," she had said, and Regina's eyes had wandered over the serious faces of the students, and the doctor, perhaps out of mercy, had hesitated, and turned to her small flock, and said, "Please wait out in the hallway for me," and turned to Regina, and said, "Is there anybody here with you?" And Regina had turned around, but Emma wasn't in her chair, and there was a moment when something deflated in Regina, but she still said, "Yes," remembering how they had gathered with her in the evening, how Regina had woken beside them in the morning, and they would not have left her. And just at that moment, because the universe must love Regina Mills something fierce, the three came in together. 

The doctor arched her brow. "Are you all family?"

"Yes," Snow replied loudly, smoothly. 

The doctor looked at Henry for longer than a beat, and Emma, who must've just understood, said in a low voice, "Kid, wait in the hall, and I'll be there in a second," and Henry opened his mouth to resist and Regina cut in with, "Listen to your mother," and Henry remembered this and looked at Regina and said softly, "I love you, Mom," and Regina felt that warmth in her rise again, and she said softly, to Henry's back, because the boy had followed his directly quickly, "Don't worry, Henry. And I love you too, dear."

Dr. Roberts--Regina glanced at her nametag--cleared her throat and said, "Okay. So low white blood cell counts can mean many things, but the kind of pain you're having in your body--how is it now?" 

"Better," Regina answered honestly. 

"Yes, good. The ibuprofin reduces inflammation and the morphine should have knocked out some of what pain was left. This kind of pain can mean many things and I think it's best if we just rule everything out. CT scans are easy, but you will have to swallow something. I also am ordering a full-body MRI for you. Have you had an MRI before?"

"No."

"You will be asked to lay on a narrow bed and you will be pushed through a machine that is--well, it's a little cave-like, and it's loud. You'll be given headphones, and our techs are very good. When we have results, which should be by the end of the day, we can talk some more. Okay?" Her tone brusque, Dr. Roberts turned to leave. 

Regina's irritation rose hot as she called after the doctor. "Could you please just be direct? What is the worst case scenario?"

Dr. Roberts paused, and lifted her eyes from her iPad to look at Regina. "It could be any number of things, Ms. Mills. There are a host of autoimmune issues that could cause these symptoms. The most common is cancer, which, while not an autoimmune disease exactly, does manifest often initially by a low white blood cell count and discrete phyical pain in the body."

Regina heard Emma exhale, and Snow shifted in her line of sight. "Cancer," Regina said, trying the syllables out on her mouth. "Cancer?"

"Ms. Mills, we are not sure yet, which is why we need these tests. It could also, as I just said, be any number of conditions, none of which I am prepared to diagnose without more information."

Regina nodded, surprised at the absence of feeling--emotional or otherwise--in her body and heart. No, not absence. Currents of something were moving within her, but as if below a scrim, holding her as she floated above. Drugs. Good idea, drugs. 

Emma's voice was surprisingly rough. "When can you test her, now? Can you test her now?"

"I will make those arrangements now, yes," Dr. Roberts responded. 

Emma didn't say anything else, but dragged her chair beside Regina, and Snow stood there helplessly for a moment, looking between Regina and Emma and the doctor. The doctor continued. "I will check in soon, okay? Don't worry," she finished, exiting, echoing Regina's own words to Henry only moments earlier. 

"Could you get Henry, please?" Regina asked Emma.

Emma started and rose, saying, "Oh, right. Henry," and dashed out the door, but then was gone more than several minutes. When she re-entered with the boy, Regina glanced at Emma suspiciously, wondering exactly what she'd told him, but was mollified when Henry simply said, "So it's going to be okay, right, Mom? They just want you here a bit longer to keep an eye on you?"

"Yes, Henry," she said, keeping her voice easy, grateful now also that Emma had lied to him. 

All the while she thought: Cancer. Of course. Because why would it ever be easy. 

____

The MRI was a loud horrible claustrophobic thing. For the CT scan, she had to drink the foulest liquid, a lot of it, and threw it up every single time until the tech, exasperated and not concerned-seeming enough, stepped in and said, maybe curtly, "We'll just have to do it with what made it into your body," but his hands were gentle as he helped her up to lay on the table beneath the donut-shaped monstrosity and then back into her chair, bringing her water before and after to wash her mouth out. Hours passed. In the evening, Dr. Roberts came back, and said shortly, "Ms. Mills, we will need to biopsy you," and this meant a series of long needles, and then sleep, and they dialed up the morphine, and Regina felt like a little chicken who had all her feathers plucked out, but she refused--refused to cry, even when Henry slipped in bed beside her, allowing her to pretend to be asleep, tucking his arm around her and falling asleep on her. 

Later, she woke to use the bathroom and found she couldn't rise. And this is when the tears rose, panicked, subsiding, and she saw Emma in the chair, who was blinking sleepily then horrified, who knew better than to say anything, just scooted close and put her hand on Regina's back and moved in slow, very small circles until Regina got herself together and breathed a deep breath and said near a whisper, "Help me off this bed, Emma?" and Emma did, and when Regina got back into bed she slept with her face turned away from Emma until the dawn broke. 

When the dawn broke, Dr. Roberts came in the room. Regina was awake, and caught the look the doctor gave Emma, who was shifting, sleeping lightly in that chair, a look of what--recognition? Kindness? And the doctor cleared her throat, and Regina's first thought was Emma's first statement, disconcerting as that was: "Do you ever go home? What've you worked, like three shifts?"

And the doctor paused, clearly caught off guard, and then she smiled at Emma, and the smile carried over to Regina, and said, "Double shift. I wanted to make sure," and her voice was serious now, but not melodramatic, just direct, and Regina was comforted by this, continuing, "that we had this correct. Ms. Mills, I have your results and I want to go over them with you as well as discuss options for your treatment plan."

Henry stirred beside her, and Regina turned to Emma, who turned to the doctor, who kept her eyes on Regina. "Who do you want present?"

"I'll take the kid outside," Emma said, starting up. Regina motioned her down with her hand. 

"No. It's what it is. I think--" Regina bent down and heard his breathing, soft and even. She made a decision. "He's asleep, and if he's not, we'll tell him anyway." She gazed at Emma, silencing her protest, then holding her eyes a beat longer. Regina turned, feeling her chest expand and soften. It was going to be okay. "Go on, doctor."

"Let me say first that there are excellent treatment options and you are probably going to be just fine. You have a type of cancer, Ms. Mills, called lymphoma. The proper term is a non-Hodgkins lymphoma, and yours is in your spleen and in your lymphatic system, and we have identified perhaps six to eight lymph nodes that have been affected."

"Affected," repeated Regina, at the same time Emma asked, "Probably?"

Both women ignored Emma. "Yes, affected," Dr. Roberts said to Regina. "Cancerous." She paused again, giving Regina a moment before continuing. "The most likely treatment, for now, is a course of chemotherapy, which consists of a cocktail, in your case, of three drugs we will feed to you through the IV. That treatment is short in and of itself but does have side effects, and while most can do this outpatient, you are far from your home and I would be more comfortable keeping you here at least through the first week to make sure your body is stable enough to do this. You are," and she looked up and down Regina's body in a clinical way, "Very worn out. Your cancer is at a stage four, Ms. Mills, and this means we will start treatment immediately, first thing tomorrow, if you are open to this. There are other people here you can discuss this with and I will also come back to talk more with you. Do you have questions now?"

"No." Regina was aware how tight her voice was, but couldn't pinpoint the emotion. "Thank you doctor," she said politely, smoothing the sheets around her.

"I wil be back," said Dr. Roberts. Henry stirred again, and reached for Regina, steadying her, grounding her. She knew in that instant that her son was awake, playing at sleep. She pulled him tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling Emma look at her.

"Regina," she heard Emma say, once the doctor had gently clicked closed her door. 

Regina shook her head. She felt Emma wavering, knew Emma wanted to come close. Come already, Regina thought impatiently. Don't ask me to take care of you right now. But Emma only pulled her chair closer, and reached one hand out to thread it through Henry's hair. 

"Kid," Emma said. "We know you're awake." And Regina lifted her eyes to Emma's again, and felt a wash of love pass through her that was so tremendous that she touched her cheek, so briefly, on Emma's hand, the one stirring Henry. 

"Mom," Henry breathed, turning his wide eyes on hers. "Mom," and his eyes filled with tears. "No," he said. "No."

"Yes," Emma cut in, and her voice was strangely bright and strong. "This is what it is and this is going to be okay. Okay, Henry?" 

He didn't look at Emma, just buried his face miserably in Regina's neck, who gripped him tighter. 

Emma spoke again, the harsh glinting note still sounding. "Yes, Henry. Regina. Yes. This is what it is and it is going to be okay."

And in one fluid gesture, Emma lifted herself out of her chair to sandwich Henry between herself and Regina on the--impossibly narrow, Regina thought--bed, gathering them both into her arms, not one of them moving or crying, but feeling with the intense pressure of their bodies wedged together, like a family, like maybe they could navigate this horrible shit together, till each one, absolutely fatigued with emotion, drifted back off to sleep. 

___

The doctors came and went. Emma and Henry changed positions--into the chair, on their feet, to the cafeteria, on small walks, and back--and Snow had came back, and Henry eventually left with her, and the doctors came again, and the sun fell back into the horizon, and Regina said yes to treatment. 

The morphine in her system had reduced the fireworks in her system, or floated her above them -- yes, it felt exactly like peering out of a plane window the night of some July Fourth, watching the dizzying spectacle from above, not below. 

That night, as Regina was coasting down off of the morphine and back under the wrenching pain that had ceased to shock her but only served to exhaust her more and more each time, maybe half an hour before the night nurse was due to give her more of the clear fluid, Emma moved near silently into the yellow chair and hesitantly held Regina's hand and then closed her eyes. She bit her lower lip and bent her head, then coursed a soft light magic through Regina. 

Regina's pain fuzzed and sparkled into not-pain, abating, not as generously or grandly as it had with the morphine, but left her aware, firmly rooted in her own consciousness, not ... high. For a moment she felt a dizzying feeling of regret, and as it took hold of her Emma dropped Regina's hand and said, "What is that? Why are you feeling--"

"Nothing," Regina replied, understanding now how in this world it would be so easy to take drugs, any drugs, anything that held her outside of herself and made it easy to feel good and hard to feel totally real. Although Emma's magic was another kind of drug, to be sure, warm and solid and bright and--loving--and Regina felt herself resisting, resisting, physically pulling her body away slightly, afraid, totally afraid, now. But she left her hand in Emma's. 

Fuck, Regina thought. I feel so--Fuck. No--

Emma cleared her throat and said, "You sure?" and her voice was like it was earlier, still soft and rough, and then Emma said quickly, not giving Regina a chance to respond, because of course, connected like this, did Emma know? that Regina was feeling this bottomless softness, like she just wanted Emma closer and closer--"I'm going to strengthen it a little. But tell me where it hurts?"

Regina nodded, shifting her eyes closed, panic settling as Emma's magic took hold, stronger now, a current that wouldn't be fucked with, and it was as if Regina's own magic went submissive, held back, watching Emma's brand of light whistle and shimmer up through Regina's veins and psyche and physical, terrestrial body, and all the rest of her, parts unmapped and mapped--and Emma gripped Regina's fingers tighter--for magic, Regina told herself, gripping back, but it did not stop her from feeling nervous. They did not do this. She would have never consented to this three days ago. 

Regina kept her eyes closed as she pointed at her stomach, vaguely, then, as her fear lessened and lessened, she drew slow circles over where she felt the pain, targeting them for Emma as Emma's magic concentrated in the small places inside of Regina that were fighting or dying. 

And for the first time in Regina's life, she felt herself surrender consciously and willingly to the force that was enveloping her. Which in this case, was Emma, and Emma's magic. 

As if reading her thoughts, which was impossible, but linked like this maybe Emma could feel Regina's shift in some way, Emma said, "I won't hurt you, Regina."

And goddamn it, tears sprang to Regina's eyes. She bit them back fiercely so not one traitorous, leaky asshole would escape. Body prone on the bed, she willed the emotion gone. She felt herself steel and wondered if Emma noticed. 

Regina was so fucking tired. And Emma continued, head bent, body rigid, guiding a bright and unhurried stream of magic through her best friend's body. 

This went on until the night nurse, harried by a series of emergencies in other rooms, swept in, apologizing and affixing a new IV bag for Regina. Then the nurse held up the ziplocked morphine and said, "Doctor ordered this for you, honey. Want it?" 

Emma had let go of Regina's hands as the nurse had walked in, and accompanying Regina's dizzying sweep of relief--since when did Emma cause this much feeling in Regina--since always--was an aching, an aching longing to restore connection with Emma that Regina refused--Fuck--straight up refused to feel. 

This panic is why, even though Regina knew in her bones that Emma's hunch was right, that Emma's magic had given her more true relief than morphine could, and not to mention that Emma had already put herself out there and exhausted herself multiple ways with these small sacrifices for Regina, sleeping in that goddamn chair, talking constantly to the doctors, even supervising Snow's mothering of Henry in moments she couldn't be present--even though Regina knew these things and held on to them like a fistful of diamonds in a desert--not letting one escape and also not brave enough to look closely at them--Regina replied, "Yes, please."

And it must be that Emma knew more than she should have known of Regina's reasoning, because it was perfectly normal to ask for a painkiller when the doctor had already ordered it and you're laid up in bed with any sort of deadly disease, no matter what kind of magic tricks they'd been doing--because a hurt flashed across Emma's face, and she drew back from Regina's bed quickly, scraping her chair against the floor and bouncing up to her feet. "Hey, uh, I'm going to check on Henry and get some dinner. My mom should be here soon. I'll be back later but you'll probably be," and she gestured towards the drip, "knocked out." Emma's eyes darted briefly up to Regina's but she turned away and made a beeline for the door, leaving herself unanswered. 

"That was fast," commented the night nurse. 

Regina made a tight Hmmm sound in her throat, feeling a rising wave of self-righteous rage at being left so abruptly by Emma softened and then extinguished by the tide of drug, which hit her fast but lifted her slow, as if she was a small boat on a very large sea. 

"Thank you," she mumbled, and fell fast asleep. 

When she woke, hours later, the harsh afternoon light had given way to night and the room was dark. When Regina turned her head, she saw Emma's eyes, wide awake and fixed on her. Her irritation rose again. 

"What, Emma?" she snapped. 

Emma wasted no time. "I thought I was helping you."

"You were."

"Then why--"

Regina knew she was being unfair. But this was her card and she would play it even if it meant--because it meant pushing away Emma. It was starting to feel uncomfortable, too close to touching things she didn't want to know about. "Because it's my body, Emma. And I'm tired and this is not easy. And because there are no right answers, or simple ones, no matter what you think. And because," and Regina paused for a second, to give herself a moment not to say this, because it was just mean and she knew it, "I don't know what your magic would do. You are still learning to control it. You're impulsive. Rash."

Even without seeing Emma's face, Regina knew she'd hit bullseye. When Emma did speak, it was tight, barely restrained fury. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" 

"Acting like you don't trust me just so you can hide."

Regina held her breath and said nothing, her anger lit and illuminated and running ragged spikes through her. 

Emma continued, a savage edge to her voice. "Good, you're angry. So maybe you'll fight."

"Is that what this is about, Emma," Regina spat. "You think I'm not doing enough?"

But now Emma paused, and moments passed while Regina held herself in, in, her anger pulsing then receding until it was just a faint ebb in her stomach, and then Emma's voice was very soft when she spoke. "I wish I could put this in me instead so you wouldn't have to hurt, I think. I think I hate this so very, very much."

And this time, when Emma took Regina's hand with the same tentativeness she'd displayed earlier, there was no excuse of magic, just a tiny comfort, and Regina's breath softened in her throat, and she did not move her hand at all, let it be limp in Emma's until she worked up the bravery to squeeze a little, to choose to do this new thing, and Emma exhaled a noisy sigh and leaned forward to lay her head beside Regina's waist. 

They fell asleep like this, hands loosely connected at first but sliding away as soon as Emma fell unconscious, which Regina still found ... comforting, feeling the slight weight of Emma's arms and head on the bed, her breathing steady and deep, and when a different doctor woke Regina up a few hours later for the first round of chemotherapy, Regina felt okay, not magic-induced okay or drug-induced okay. Just okay. 

Emma lifted herself up and blinked sleepily at the doctor, then leaned back and stretched and yawned at the same time. He cocked an eyebrow at her and said, "Sleep well?"

Which Emma either ignored or didn't hear because her reply was, "Can I go with her?"

"We're going to wheel her to a different room, and yes, you can sit with her. Her son can, too," he said. "There aren't many people down there this morning, so it will be fine for her to have company. If she wants it." He turned to Regina and she nodded. "Okay, very good. Ready, Ms. Mills?"

The room wasn't too scary, Regina reasoned, but they had to bring her down in a wheelchair, which--just, terrifying, exposed--but the nurse who had wheeled her had put a very gentle hand on her shoulder and leaned in to say quietly, with a joking edge to his voice, "Relax, just enjoy the ride," and she had grimaced a bit but complied, feeling a battling mixture of terror and relief at seeing one more thing slip from her control. 

But. Then. A nurse hooked up a new IV with the chemo drugs. And Henry was there and she smiled at him reassuringly and Emma was staring at her with that incomprehensible mixture of emotions on her face, which she cleared self consciously and replaced with a soft grin, and Snow, and this was a familiar emotion--Snow, who was Regina's friend now, but nothing like Emma--was standing there with a mixture of tears and empathy shining on her face. Regina did not have the energy not to roll her eyes. So she did. 

But. Then. No less than three second after the nurse opened the drip, Regina felt the familiar pressure skyrocket behind her eyelids, four, five seconds, and felt a purple sheen rise over her eyes, six seconds, and heard the fireworks inside of her, gathering in intensity, seven, eight, nine, and somebody was gripping her hand--Emma? no, Henry--and she promptly passed out at the ten second mark. 

____

It was deep in the late afternoon when Regina woke up groggily, back in the room she'd been in now for too many days. She opened her eyes to see Snow sitting bedside, who jumped up and shut the door and then sat back in Emma's chair. 

Snow spoke first. "Regina, we have to get you out of here."

Too exhausted to move, and riding--floating--so high, Regina did nothing but focus on keeping her eyes on Snow's face. 

"Emma thinks it's your magic trying to fight whatever's in your body. And your magic did not like whatever was happening to you this morning."

Regina shook her head, feeling rage and despair stud her float in tiny punctures. She tried, "Cuff?"

Snow waited a minute before she tried again. "Well, we talked about that. But Emma thinks she can ... try."

Regina's eyes fixed hard on Snow, discerning meaning, and Snow shifted uncomfortably. 

"She can see it, Regina. She can see it inside of you," and Snow's eyes dropped to Regina's belly, almost mournfully. "And when you let her--"

Regina closed her eyes, mortified, as if she'd engaged in something illicit with Emma--as if their magic--what was this? Embarassment? Shame? She didn't know. 

"Regina," and Snow's voice was commanding, firm, and this was the Snow Regina liked best, she noted with satifaction. Stronger. Not simpering. "Regina, when you let her in for a moment yesterday, you were better. And it lasted a bit. And Emma knew exactly how long it would last. And she knew she could have given you more but she didn't want--" Snow cut herself off, then sighed and said, flatly, "She didn't want you spooked."

Both women sat still, and the sky outside turned from a deep blues and greens on the horizon to black in those minutes which stretched into many minutes. 

Snow spoke again. "Think about it. She didn't want to ask you. She wanted to take you and just do it so you two didn't need to talk. But sometimes I think for all the ways you understand each other and are similar, you could really benefit from more talking," she finished wryly. 

Regina understood. Begrudgingly, she thought, Yes. This is what Emma wants. I trust Emma. Her palm tingled as if on command, feeling yesterday's two touches. Then, because Regina was nothing if not consistent, she shook her head slowly, then firmly. No. 

"No?! Regina, it took a shock machine to get you back and conscious--"

"Try again tomorrow," Regina mumbled. "Get a cuff. Ask Zelena," she started, then, exhausted, trailed off and closed her eyes again. What the hell was a shock machine. 

She woke sometime in the night to Emma slipping a cuff over her arm, Emma who hesitated when she caught Regina's eye. 

"Oh--hi. I just wanted--" Emma started softly, then sighed. "I wanted to get this on you without anybody seeing. I'm sorry I woke you."

Regina stretched, taking her arm back from Emma. She felt surprisingly light, clear. "You didn't." She exhaled deeply, then moved to sit up, ignoring the pain arcing low in her chest and stomach, waving Emma off when she moved forward to help her. "I've got it, thanks. Emma," Regina said softly, now, and was this the first soft thing she'd said to Emma? "Thank you."

"It's nothing--"

"It's not nothing, Emma. It's everything," and Regina heard the tenderness in her voice and fought like hell kept her gaze simple, direct, for Emma, for her friend. "You are a tremendous friend."

Emma stared at Regina for a beat, then shifted. "It's nothing," she said quietly, looking down, then up. "I'm going to sleep, okay? You should too." She shifted again. "I'm going back to the hotel tonight to stay with Henry. My mom's going to be with you for the rest of the night. She insisted. I hope that's okay--"

And Regina had absolutely no right to feel her belly plummet, but she understood Emma's hesitance, and all Regina said was, "Go, Emma, get real sleep in a real bed. You don't need to martyr yourself. And Snow doesn't have to come. I have nurses. I will be fine."

And Emma stared at her a moment longer, then in an awkward rush bent over the bed and into Regina's hair and put her cheek there, awkwardly now closing one arm around Regina's body, and Regina stunned, feeling crushed flat beneath a skidding set of emotions, did nothing, even as she felt Emma's too-rapid breath and even as she felt Emma straighten up and back away to say, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" and walk out the door without, again, waiting for a reply. 

When Snow came a bit later that night, Snow pushed the chair back a little bit from Regina's bed, and did not sleep, holding vigil over her room in a way that was altogether different from Emma's but also, in its own measure, comforting. 

And in the morning, it was different but not different. All was set up, the chair and the IV and when the nurse connected Regina, she did not flinch but Emma did. Everybody held their breath for a moment, but Regina felt nothing, well, Regina felt clenching pain, just pure body pain, rising and falling in her belly. No fireworks. Just leaden pain and her body was heavy and this was even more horrible than before. 

And Regina waited for the drug. But nothing happened. 

Wait, no, literally nothing happened. The nurse on the floor who checked on Regina fifteen minutes later frowned, and tapped the IV, and when Regina looked up, it was all there, in its little clear barrel, as if it had never been connected. The nurse disconnected and reconnected the IV, tapped it again, saw it drip once, twice, and then satisfied, walked away. When she returned five minutes later, she frowned again. 

"Ms. Mills? This isn't working. We may need to reinsert the line." 

Six tries, three lines, two different doctors, one x-ray later, and four hours later, Regina was returned to her room, no chemo in her blood. 

Snow, Henry, and Emma were with her. "Mom, what happened?"

Regina sighed, worn and frayed to the bone. "I don't know, Henry. But it's going to be okay."

Henry turned to Emma. "Was it magic?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, kid. Wanna see what's on TV?" and Emma reached for the remote with the fake nonchalance that used to work on Henry and never but never had ever worked on any other adult ever in Emma's life. 

Snow spoke up. "It might be. Magic," she clarified. "It's working now," she said, pointing to the IV Regina was hooked up to.

Henry reached over and buzzed the nurse intercom. A few minutes later, Donna appeared, smiling widely at Henry, who grinned even more widely at her. 

"Ms. Barreto, my mom's IV is working again," Henry said. 

Donna pursed her lips and looked at the IV. "Good," she said, understanding. "Let me call the doctor."

Dr. Roberts appeared moments later with Regina's chemo treatments in hand, Donna directly behind her. They hooked the IV up smoothly and--

Nothing happened. 

Regina bit back a grin of sheer relief and caught Emma's eye, who looked back at her: suspiciously, gently, wonderingly, thoughtfully. 

The doctor sighed. "It's as if you're rejecting the drug every way possible," she said. "Including not letting it in your veins."

Regina slumped back into the covers and Donna touched her knee gently through the blankets. "Long day, mama," she said soothingly. "Rest." She darted a glance around at the other occupants of the room. "You have to let her rest soon, okay?'

Henry nodded, and Donna beamed at him again, and said, "I'll check back in later," and gently shut the door behind herself and the extraordinarily puzzled doctor. 

"Magic," said Snow again. 

"How?" said Emma. "She has the cuff."

"Let's let her slee--" said Snow, but Regina interrupted her. 

"Take me."

"Where?" asked Snow, at the same time Emma said, "When?"

"Now," Regina said simply, shifting in the bed to look only to Emma. "Magic whatever will be a mess later. Make them forget. I don't care. There isn't time. You were right. This isn't working."

Emma nodded, and said, "Cuddle puddle," and Henry grinned and Snow looked at her thoughtfully and Regina felt confused until all three climbed onto the bed and Emma stretched out her strong arms and gathered them close, holding them together, her arm threaded first around Regina's shoulder, and Regina leaned in and allowed herself this, allowed herself to lean her head on Emma's shoulder and breathe her scent, woman, this woman, in, and feel Emma's warmth, her proximity lighting new flashes in Regina: Some unnamable desire. Home. And then the pleasure of Emma's slight shift, an acknowledgement, of what exactly Regina no longer cared, so long as they were in proximity, so long as they were together, and Emma drew Regina ever closer, and they poofed as a single unit in a cloud of smoke back to Storybrooke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! <3
> 
> Here's some RL context for me: I lost two different people in my life to cancer this year. A narrative thread that linked these deaths was the constant refrain of "think positive" and "eat right." Both people who died had resisted the brutality of "conventional" treatment in favor of this think positive! eat right! lotsa juice! approach; for both people, treatment, according to doctors--who would see each in crisis, to hook up IV's, for example, or perform other band-aid work--these doctors grew increasingly urgent and concerned thru the declines, & each set of doctors repeatedly said that treatment, up until it was too late, had the capacity to save each person. For one, treatment came too late and for the other it came not at all. 
> 
> It was THEIR RIGHT to not be treated; it was their right to die. 
> 
> But I am grieving and I miss them. Feelings are complicated.
> 
> I wanted to provide context to my thinking because I think without this context it would be easy to see this fic in that Eat Right! Think Positive! camp. 
> 
> Found myself writing this fic to create a reality, maybe just for me, in which these people I loved could have survived on their own terms, in the literal hands of those who loved them, without the assault of chemicals and radiation and those fucking deathly hospital spaces. To still have chosen not-that and been able to live. That grace, afforded only sporadically to the living, can be built freely only in fiction, which is why I use our R+E symbols to play-act that reality, plus ... love ... plus ... smut ... plus ... tremendous tenderness and connection ... eventually. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. It'll go on for a few more chapters, probably five total. Everything's starting soon, so updates may or may not be slow. It's mapped and built in my head tho, so, idk. New to this (fanfic, my own writing process, etc.) still. Thx for patience and comments & reading this longass end note. xxo


	3. Girl in the Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Emma figures out how to use magic to heal slowly and in which our Regina learns to let her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! There's a very brief mention of Hook/Emma intimacy but it's there in the service of SQ. It's the only time it'll happen. Otherwise, tenderness, a little angst, a little fluff. Thanks for reading!

They’d been back a week in Storybrooke before Rumple paid a visit to Regina, who was living in a comfortable wing on the third floor of the hospital. 

“Well, dearie, your magic was trying to save you,” Rumple had said, perched on the seat beside her bed. “It knew there was an invader in your system but it just ended up indiscriminately attacking all the affected parts of you. You’re lucky your girlfriend has some common sense.”

Regina scowled at him. “Stop projecting your nasty little fantasies. Emma’s no more my girlfriend than Belle is yours.”

Rumple twitched a bit at the insult, but then tilted his head. “You don’t know what to do, do you?”

“Do you?”

“I think she’s got the right idea, Regina. You should let her. Just remember that all magic has a price.”

“What do you think the price is here?”

“Forgiveness.” 

But as much as Regina pushed him, he wouldn’t speak more. When Emma came in, Rumple gave Emma a look that could have maybe been characterized as gentle—and rose to exit without saying another word. 

“Everything ok, Regina?” Emma had asked after he’d left. 

“Yes,” Regina said, tearing her eyes off the doorway Rumple had exited to fix her gaze on Emma. She shook her head. “Yes, of course. Shall we start?”

Emma looked at her curiously, then nodded and gently picked up Regina's hand in her own. 

 

________

 

At first they started slow. Not every day. Every other day. Regina drank only water and stayed on the IV. Plugged in like a machine, Henry liked to tease her.

Those were the days that were best, when she was awake and pain-free enough to listen, truly listen, to Henry talk about his day, about the friends he had made in school and about Violet and the small adventures. When he said he was bored she quirked an eyebrow at him, and he said, “I know, Mom. The real adventures can wait until you’re all better.” And she grinned at him, because in moments like this it felt like Henry’s belief alone could carry them, and that of course she’d get better. 

But then there were days that weren’t so good, when the pain--dulled, insistent, unyielding--would make her want to scream. Emma had argued and argued with her that first day back, and finally Regina had relented and allowed Emma to put a cuff on her wrist—to quell the magic inside—and Regina internally marveled at herself for this level of trust, then scowled when she realized how much she had come to rely on Emma. Sometimes her thoughts were confused and she didn’t trust herself to make, much less verbalize, a clear and coherent set of statements. And sometimes it didn’t matter at all: for example, on the second day, when fever crept up on her in the early afternoon, and Emma went to the station and found a washcloth and wet it in cool water and pressed it to Regina’s temples, Regina simply closed her eyes and burst into tears. Emma, stiff, unsure, knelt to eye level and brushed her knuckles softly under Regina’s eyes to catch her tears, then brought up her fingers again to brush them against the teardrops on Regina’s lips. Emma’s eyes were lidded, studious, and they did not rise to meet Regina’s, but Regina’s quick intake of breath and Emma’s own exhale at that same moment filled the room noisily enough for Emma to take a stumbling step backwards, crashing into the chair, and Regina laughed out loud, a pure, loud sound, which earned her Emma peeking up from scarlet cheeks and grinning back. 

There was that. So the bad days, shit as they were, sometimes had a redeeming moment or two. 

Or like the few days just as they had returned from Boston before Emma’s magic had taken root in Regina, and Regina faded in and out of consciousness, but a couple of times when she woke, dizzy and drowsy, she caught sight of Emma and Henry and Snow sitting, heads bent together, poring over anatomy textbooks to help Emma visualize exactly where to reach her magic inside of Regina. 

And having that cuff—it was annoying, Regina thought, but she also saw that it helped. How it erased the part of the pain that was fireworks, which was just her magic exploding to try to eliminate the cancer. She knew by now that cancer was just tissue overgrowth, and so her magic wasn’t savvy enough to figure out how to attack the mutated dna, and she could not direct it. Emma thought maybe she’d been directing it the whole time, some part of her subconcious fighting back. Thinking about all of this made Regina sleepy, so she let it go. 

She knew she hadn’t seeen Charming in forever because he was either covering Emma’s shifts or watching the baby. 

Also, she knew that for the first time in years, when she slept, she could not really remember her dreams. 

_____

 

“Mom, what exactly does Ma do?”

“She concentrates on the parts of me that hurt, and she sends magic there. She instructs it to heal me.”

“Does it work?”

“Yes.”

And this was probably not a lie. It felt like it was working: it had been almost a week, and Regina already felt stronger. It would be a bit longer, she knew. And eventually she would have to go back to get imaging done to see if she had truly been healed, or maybe, as she feared deep down, Emma just made her feel better but didn’t repair anything. 

Logically she knew better. 

And yes, there were unintended side effects. 

The first day they tried, in the hospital in Storybrooke, Emma had sat for three hours, first opening a conduit between herself and Regina through their hands, one hand holding Regina’s lightly and the other curled in her own lap. 

Emma closed her eyes and chewed her lip absently, modulating the stream of magic she sent through Regina. 

Emma’s magic was corrective in the best way—it warmed Regina when she was cold, it soothed her when she was anxious, and it quelled hunger, pain, and nausea as it needed to. Sometimes she drifted off to sleep, making sure Emma had her hand securely, and even then she did not remember her dreams. 

That first time, that three hour session. Regina had dropped off. And when she came to, she felt warmth inside of her, and she felt the absolute heat of Emma's palm searing her. Emma gave her arm a subtle tug, and Regina's eyes flew open immediately to find Emma's--

Regina knew that look on Emma's face. It surprised her. Emma darted out her tongue to wet her lips, breath hitched, pupils wide and dark. Regina reached out her hand to her again—

Emma pulled away swiftly, and said, “You okay?”

“Yes,” Regina said. 

“Henry will be here to visit in half an hour. Why don’t you try to sleep a little more until he gets here?” Emma spoke rapidly, then hesitated. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Emma mumbled tightly. “I just have to take care of something.” And she fled out the door. 

But Emma did return that night, bouncing a bit from one foot to the other, hair still damp from a shower, looking much more relaxed. “Hey,” Emma said.

“Hey,” Regina replied, quirking a brow. 

“Feel better? You look a lot better.”

“Yes, I’m feeling—“ Regina stretched, considering. “Hopeful.”

Emma grinned. 

“And you?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I ran out of here. I was just—I don’t know. It was a lot of—energy, I think. It left me feeling—“ and there was an unmistakeable glint to her eye, and her cheeks got pink, and—

“Horny,” Regina said, amused and suprised. 

“Ugghhh,” groaned Emma. “No. Yes.”

“So you ... took care of yourself?” Regina grinned fully now, wickedly. 

“Regina! It all worked out, okay? I’m good. It won’t happen again.”

Regina gestured around her, still grinning. “This is what does it for you? Deathly ill? Hospital beds? Maybe the scent of bleach? Or the plague scare in the room next door?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I just came to check on you. Clearly you are fine.” But instead of turning to go, Emma shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking suddenly uncertain in the doorway. 

“Are you coming in?”

And Emma took her chair and extended her hand for Regina’s. 

Regina said, “It’s late. You’re tired. You got all worked up. I’m okay for tonight.”

“You look tired, Regina. Just a minute. Let me give you good dreams.” Emma’s cheeks colored again. Regina smiled again, charmed by this shy Emma, hesitating only for a moment more before offering up her hand. 

But when Emma took Regina’s hand, something unexpected happened. 

At first, there was just the familiar buzz of magic between them, a feeling Regina had grown so accustomed to that she welcomed it. Settling in her, tonight like small gold fingers, soft and warm, undoing the knots in her liver, tonight, her lungs. Then an image, a movie, vivid and unexpected, Emma's scent, her skin's sweat--

Emma, totally clothed, two or three hours ago, straddling Killian on the couch, then thrusting against Killian's body, urgent, fierce, wild, Killian surprised at her ardor and almost matching her intensity, Emma’s throat exposed and neck thrown back, as she uttered a name, the wrong name, soft enough that Killian did not hear it, as she rocked her denim-clad hips against his waist, then clenched and shattered and came around him--then disentangling immediately, kissing him briefly on the cheek. 

Then: Emma in the shower, washing her hair with one hand while she stroked the other firmly through her own heat, the impossible heat rising, slick and consumed, in her, circling and circling until she jerked one, twice, spiraling into orgasm, gulping ragged breaths, coming so hard and fast, realizing—

And Emma pulled her hand away from Regina, as if she had been burned, and looked sharply at her and rapidly, breathlessly, “What did you just see—“

At the same time Regina said, “Emma, why are you pulling away so fast?”

They locked gazes, Emma searching, Regina revealing nothing, until Emma quirked a small smile and said, “I think you’re right. I think I’m tired,” and exhaled. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

“Text me when you’re home safe, please,” Regina said. 

Emma only nodded, searching Regina’s eyes once more, and then left. 

Regina. This had been the name on Emma’s lips. Regina exhaled, and warmth and worry spread through her. This was a new kind of torture now: because of sharing this much magic, they could now see each other. Honestly, she had suspected this. Sometimes when they were fighting some random enemy, they combined their magic, and it was a glorious sensation. The only experience Regina'd had that was remotely similar was sex, so of course magic felt like sex. But it wasn't. It wasn't. It couldn't be. So easy to confuse it all, she had thought. And yet. Emma had called her name--

Regina touched her heart and wondered and felt exhaustion sweep her up whole and lay back in her bed.

That night, when she dreamed, she had the first of the maze dreams. 

She was trapped in a maze. The walls were made of stone, or something that looked like stone—when she looked closer, it looked like fine dust ground into stone. When she touched it, the dust crumbled and holes emerged. Theere was no map. There was a sack, sealed, glowing at her feet. 

When she woke she woke alone and wished she had the desire and the energy to make herself come, feeling suddenly and irrationally jealous of Emma--of Hook?--yes, of Hook--to simply relieve, she told herself, some of the interminable pressure of feeling physically unwell. 

____

 

It was hard to say if Emma knew she knew, but after that moment Regina tried to coax herself to sleep when Emma gave her magic, and Emma grew more relaxed. 

But she couldn’t always sleep. And sometimes Regina's thoughts flowed towards Emma: Tiny fragments of memory, a fleeting impression of Henry, a dream, impressions more than stories. It never amounted to anything. 

And: 

Sometimes there were memories--of Emma's--that rose to the surface, partial, pieces of memories, as if they’d been dredged from the depths of an old lake. 

When Emma grasped Regina’s hand on the fourth or fifth afternoon, Regina resisted the impulse to put her free hand on Emma’s heart. She could feel a hurt in Emma, but Emma, characteristically, said very little and only said, “You ready?”

Regina had caught her eyes for a moment, hesitated, decided to nod only and lean back into the bed. And so she was not surprised when she was transported to a gorgeous field. Memories waved here, tall grass glinting in the late afternoon sun. 

No. A field that was like something: like a girl?

Yes. And when Regina looked up, a light rain began to fall, basking the small place in peace. There had been a girl—

Yes. This is about a girl. This is about Emma being a little girl loving another little girl. The meadow was a reminder of the girl, somehow?

There had been a girl once. She was small and looked like the stillness of rain. Her physical features—what she looked like—weren’t available to Regina, but she could feel the feeling Emma felt when Emma saw her. Like: being in a small meadow, safe, when a light summer rain began to fall and everything got quiet and holy-feeling and smelled like damp earth. 

That’s the feeling this girl gave her. 

Emma must have been young when she met this girl, because Regina saw her through girl-eyes, like a memory of being young with another young person. Five years old, maybe six. The little girl turned to Emma, and Regina felt a longing spark through her, Emma’s longing, to know this girl, to be close.

This is how it starts, Regina thought. Before we know what attraction is, before we think about marrying people and loving them or even kissing them, it starts like this: a flash of longing. A girl who feels like a meadow. Anybody who feels like home.

A fierce wave of grief and sadness hit and washed through Regina. By now, no story about Emma’s childhood could surprise her, but this—inhabiting Emma’s sorrow and isolation and her want for connection, her want to love another, and another little girl at that, this rocked Regina, took her breath away and itched her palms to reach out and hold her friend close. 

All went dark. Emma’s magic left her, not all at once. But. Faster than usual. Regina inhaled sharply, dizzy at their sudden separation. When she came to all the way, her hospital room was dark and silent. 

Regina scolded herself for instantly missing their contact. Emma was hard-wired for self protection and asking for more touch right now would be ... no, Regina thought, fighting to control and clear her emotions. This is not real. It’s just—the magic.

“Hey,” Emma said brusquely. That syllable was sharp and thick. 

“Emma?” She heard her own voice and heard how much it was, how soft and open and troubled she sounded, how—

Moments passed. Emma said nothing. 

Sensing Emma’s retreat, totally unwilling to push her farther and say what she really wanted, which at this point she just knew were all coded variations of some unsayable shit, Regina finally said, “Thank you.” 

Emma shifted on her feet, and irritation colored her voice. “Stop thanking me, Regina. Thank me when you’re better. When I figure out how to make you better without dragging you down through all of these stupid memories that don’t even matter. Thank me when this,” and she gestured around her furiously, “Is not what you call home. I have be able to do better.”

Regina sat up quickly, now completely exasperated. “Do you think this is your fault, Emma? This has nothing to do with you! That Charming savior complex—“

Emma cut her off swiftly. “Look, I have to go. I’ve been away from home too much. Henry’s waiting--”

“Emma!”

“Regina, I have to go.”

“Sit for two minutes, Emma. Stop running.” Regina mustered all the bitchy authority she could. She pointed at the dinner tray. “Have some pudding first.”

Emma crossed her arms, eyes gleaming. “I don’t want fucking pudding.”

“What do you want, Emma? You have to take care of yourself!” Regina steadied her voice. “You coming in here and expending all of your energy—dammit, Emma, when was the last time you ate a whole meal? Slept a whole night? You can’t help anybody by running around trying to be perfect bottling everything up inside. I see you, Swan. Why is that such torture?”

There. The slightest quiver. 

Regina saw. And said, “Emma, I—I care about you.” She lifted a hand, feeling something drain out of her, the righteous anger she’d felt just a minute ago contracting into something much more painful. “I don’t have many—people. Being close like this is not—easy. For either of us. But I will never hurt you, do you understand? I will never use any of this against you. I’m trusting you to save my life. Again. Don’t you understand that’s a two-way street? That you being this open requires me to be this open too?” Regina felt her eyes fill with tears, and there were just so many emotions in her—battling—“Don’t you understand, you idiot? I’m right here. I’m fighting really hard. With you. And the more I see of you—“ she gestured limply, afraid, suddenly very very afraid, to finish the sentence. 

Emma sighed, resigned, the fight gone from her voice. “You see what a mess I am.”

“Never, Emma. I--”

But Regina couldn’t finish, and Emma didn’t push. 

Regina heard the steady ticking of the machine, she heard Emma shift again on her feet, she saw the outline of the town in the window. She let her breathing settle. She counted the heartbeats thudding in her ear. She let herself relax. 

And then Emma said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll eat tonight. I’ll sleep tonight. And I’ll take tomorrow off. David can cover me. Or Mulan. Or somebody. I promise.”

“Thank you, Emma.”

“And I’ll be back here tomorrow.”

“No—“

“Yes. That’s my choice. And if I’m rested, and fed, I’ll be more able to help you.”

Regina sighed. “Oh hell, Emma. Just please take care of yourself. That’s first. No more goddamn sacrifices. Don’t do it in order—“

“It’s okay, Regina. I promise.” Emma’s voice was calm now. Soft, even. 

In the dimness of the room, Regina felt Emma looking at her. 

Regina turned and extended her arms to Emma, and Emma crossed the distance between them easily, leaning down into Regina’s arms for a hug. 

Regina wrapped one arm around Emma’s waist and as Emma drew in closer she wrapped her other arm around Emma’s neck, pulling her close, and Emma stiffened, and Regina hesitated, thoughts that had been suddenly paralyzed by Emma’s scent and feel and nearness now flooding her with questions and fear. 

But. 

Emma. Emma gingerly slipped her arms under Regina’s body and leaned her head into Regina’s neck, so her forehead was nestled into the crook and her mouth hovered seconds above Regina’s collarbone. And Regina made a decision, a tiny decision.

She tugged Emma gently. 

And Emma resisted for only a split second before she allowed Regina to draw her down onto the bed. 

Neither woman said anything. They didn’t look at each other. But Regina threaded one hand through Emma’s hair and shifted her legs so Emma could lay beside her on her side. And Emma swiftly kicked off her boots with her feet and curled her knees into Regina’s side. They shifted, slotting their limbs together, and Emma fit herself closely, then even closer as Regina held her, at first tentatively, then firmly, as she realized that Emma was willing. 

Emma’s head stayed nestled in the crook of Regina’s neck. 

And Emma swallowed and exhaled, humming softly as her muscles slackened. 

She was fast asleep within three minutes, her breathing as soft and even as the beeping of the machines helping to keep Regina alive.

Regina didn’t dare turn her head to look at Emma, but she could trace her fingers through Emma’s hair and run the pads of her fingertips across Emma’s scalp. She could shift her legs ever so slightly to feel the pressure of Emma’s against her own. 

She could hold completely still and feel Emma’s body rise and fall with breath. She could glance her fingers over Emma’s knuckles, over her hands which were holding Regina’s waist—as they had so many times already, for magic, not for love. She could close her eyes and allow every single emotion that had found her that afternoon to pound through her without resisting, warming her and shocking her with sheer and brutal tenderness. 

She could and did resist sleep—because sleep would bring daylight and maybe awkwardness and probably fear. 

She could just be held by Emma. 

She could just, probably only for this night, hold Emma and feel her own heart fill and fill and break and fill again without thinking too much about it. 

And until dawn was close to breaking, and she finally fell into the deepest sleep imaginable, this all is exactly what Regina did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! two more chapters. I'll post the next within a week. feedback is welcome and appreciated <3


	4. Seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which progress of all sorts is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some explicit ish at the end. 
> 
> Enjoy. <3

Regina dreamed again of the maze. 

This time, she heard voices, calling from great distance. She walked through the narrow, dark walls, and realized she could smell earth. Was she outside?

When she looked up, the universe spiraled vast and gorgeous above her head. She lost herself for many moments staring up at the stars. Infinite galaxies blazed brilliant and still. And still something—many somethings—called for her.

She realized how it was her choice to let go. She could go up there. Be a star. Be still and beautiful. But this idiot maze. Something pulled her here, something unresolved. Not one thing. Many things. So much lack of resolution. But for what, Regina wondered. What else did she have to atone for. 

The voices did not grow louder, but they did not stop, either. 

Regina tipped her head back and drank in the sky. She lifted her hand to steady herself and in doing so touched the wall. It crumbled again, but this time she smelled mold, insistent and dank, as the earth fell past her hand. Repulsed, she pulled away, then, frustrated, she plunged her hand deeper, and deeper, until she had reached her entire arm in and still not reached the end. 

At her feet, the small sack appeared, glowing and calling to her. 

Were these the voices? Wall forgotten, arm covered in smelly dirt, she knelt and reached to untie—

Then she heard Emma’s voice. “Regina?”

She turned and turned again but could not see her. She felt a hand on her shoulder, tentative. “Regina.”

When Regina’s eyes flew open from sleep, they met Emma’s, concerned, hovering inches from her own. 

Regina swallowed, tracing Emma’s face with her eyes, shocked at her proximity, then remembering why as real life details siphoned off the potency of her dream. She closed her eyes and stretched a bit, letting go a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Emma.”

“Hey,” Emma said softly. “You were dreaming. Are you okay?”

“You’re still here.” There was no reproach in Regina’s voice, but Emma still averted her gaze. 

“Let me get some coffee and I’ll be back. Try again?” Emma said. 

Regina just looked at Emma, her rich brown eyes full and quiet, and Emma’s cheeks colored as she began to pull away. All Regina said was, “Did you sleep okay?”

“The best,” Emma said, tumbling off the bed and stretching. “I meant to go—“

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Emma looked at her a second, offering up a small smile, then gathered her jacket to go.

“Emma—“

She turned expectantly, one hand on the door. “Want something from downstairs?”

“No. Well, yes, maybe something sweet. No, never mind," she said, as the idea of food made her shudder a little still. "But Emma—I have to tell you something.”

“Okay.” Emma’s her hand tightened on the doorknob, and her lips pressed into a firm line. Guarded.

“You know I can—you know, see.” Regina gestured at Emma, and her voice cracked with sleep. She cleared her throat. “And I’m sorry—I will try not to, but I don’t think it’s avoidable,” she continued, struggling to be as level and direct and unscary as possible. Emma sagged a little at the door. This was the worst. Giving a runner a reason to run. “But—“

Emma interrupted, but her voice was hesitant. “It’s just—I can’t see you.”

Oh. “Emma, you will. I’m sick. You will. I’ll get better and you’ll—you’ll see me.”

“I’m just—what if you stop wanting me to help you, because—“ 

“Never,” said Regina fiercely, regretting her tone as soon as the clipped word shot out of her mouth. But. Emma relaxed visibly. 

“Okay,” Emma said again. Softly. She bit her lip. Then she smiled a bit. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay,” Regina said.

“Okay,” Emma repeated automatically, lost in thought, then settling her gaze on Regina. 

Amusing. “Emma, go get breakfast.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And when she left, Regina lay back on the bed, feeling everything she’d felt the night before rise again, this time, a tidal wave of affection and sheer longing. 

 

____

 

In the Storybrooke Hospital, Regina had been left to Emma, as Whale had been instructed very clearly by both women not to interfere with Emma and Regina’s magic sessions but to still provide doctorly support, like IV’s and vital checks and everything else. This meant Regina was in the care of a handful of rotating nurses who were aggressively ambivalent about her: neither kind, as she had probably ruined their lives and the lives of mostly everybody they knew in the Enchanted Forest, nor unkind, as she had done a pretty nice 180 and saved the day quite a few times since then. 

Emma said she should just be relieved nobody tried to kill her in her sleep. Regina, initially stung by Emma’s comment, realized she was becoming as sensitive as Snow and shook it off and agreed, which meant now that she treated the nurses attending her with constant gratitude. 

And Regina missed Zelena, who fought as hard but differently from Emma, for her, but Zelena couldn’t come because the baby had a cold, and Whale—idiot though he was—did know that if Regina’s immune system was as compromised as it was, that she couldn’t risk becoming sick. He was hardly around, but had made this point clear. 

Once in awhile, though, out of a sense of duty or obligation or purely to annoy Regina, Whale popped in with some instruction or question. Like today. 

“Stretches,” Whale said, peering over Regina as she woke up from a nap. The morning with Emma had been uneventful--save a delicious sip of Emma's coffee--but somehow both exhausting and enlivening, Emma seeming to focus exceptionally hard on maintaining boundaries while she flooded Regina with magic, and Regina grateful for the distance that Emma had created, the tremendous effort she put into not sharing any memories, thoughts with Regina. Regina’s heart was doing the most right now, and it needed a little break. When Emma left to do her shift at the station, Regina didn’t think. Or worry. She slept. Clearly, it seemed, for hours. And now: 

“What?” Regina snapped, more than a little startled. 

“You have to move around. It’s bad for you to be in bed all day.”

“Do you think I want to be in bed all day?”

“Stretches,” Whale said, without elucidating, grinning as if he’d proven quantum theory or solved the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle. 

Regina stared at him with pure displeasure. “Doctor, could you be more specific?”

But at that moment, Henry (who maybe had been sitting there since school let out?) said enthusiastically, “Mom, we’re learning yoga in school!”

She sat up smiling and reached for a hug, then drew back slightly with disdain in her voice. “So that’s what they’re doing in school now? This is Mary Margaret’s new education plan? Bending around?” 

“Mom. Don’t be like that. The nurse said you could have fresh scrubs. That’s cool.” 

Regina perched on the edge of the bed, eyeing her boy doubtfully. 

“Nobody has to see,” he reassured her. “Ma told me to tell you that.”

“She did, did she?” and warmth and amusement and irritation—all of the emotions, basically, as always with Emma—rose in Regina’s belly. “I don’t know how flexible I am, Henry.”

“You don’t have to be. Here, c’mon. I’ll show you. Say yes?”

And because there was literally nothing Regina would not do in this universe or any other to make Henry happy, for better or worse, she nodded. Reluctantly. 

“Okay. I can borrow the mats from school. I’ll ask at the nurses station for clothes for you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Rewarded thus by his blinding smile, Henry whisked away. 

“And food!” 

Regina jumped. Dammit. Whale was still there, standing bedside with the shit-eating grin.

“Food?”

“Yes. You can start eating food. You’re too skinny.”

She raised an eyebrow, but seeing Henry had softened her edge. “Watch it.” 

“I told Emma to bring you something to eat tonight. Just try it. And we can do your imaging here tomorrow.”

“Here? Whale, we don’t have any of those machines. Maybe Emma or Zelena can just poof us back somewhere, to Boston?”

“Well, until a couple weeks ago, we didn’t. Now we do. Magic is a useful thing. But we couldn’t magic up the techs. Those we had to hire.”

“Oh,” she said. 

Whale smiled at her and said, “See you later.”

It never ceased to astound Regina—the lengths people would go for her. 

She was still perched on the bed, considering this, grateful to be alone for a moment, when Henry returned with Zelena, who promptly sat on the side of the bed and hugged Regina hard. 

“I’m clear, sis!” 

Regina smiled, delighted and relieved to see her sister. “Henry’s making me do yoga. How’s Robyn?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Snow. It’s like a baby shit factory over there. And no: Us. We’re all doing yoga. Right, Henry?”

“Yeah.” But his smile faltered a bit, and he eyed the two of them nervously. “But you have to both promise to listen to me. It’s serious. Mom needs to--”

“Stretch,” Regina finished, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh, dear boy, I won’t be bad,” grinned Zelena. “I’ve missed you both so much.”

Henry unrolled their three mats while Zelena poofed Regina’ bed a bit closer to the windows to give them space and Regina changed in the bathroom. When she caught her own eyes in the mirror, she saw herself wan, the sharp bones in her cheeks evident (maybe Whale was right), and her eyes glittering happy, stunningly beautiful and open. 

Love, love in all its forms did this to her. 

“You look great, Mom,” Henry said when she stepped out of the bathroom. 

“You need to eat, Regina. My God, you’re all bones!” said Zelena. Henry glared at her and she tousled his hair. “We can both be right, Henry my love.” 

“Whale told Emma to bring food tonight,” Regina said.

“Ahh, Emma,” said Zelena quietly, studying her sister. “She came to me to make that wing together. She’s a little rebellious, your Emma.”

“What wing?”

“The one,” Zelena waved her arms grandly, “with all of that state of the art equipment that will tell us if you are better.”

“You did that together? You—you worked together?”

“Common purpose, sis. She’s ... great. Cares for you very much.” At this, Zelena looked at Regina curiously. 

“Of course she does,” Henry cut in. “It’s time to start, okay? We can talk more later.” He looked at Regina carefully. She understood then that he was protecting her. She wanted to tell him it was okay, that there was nothing to protect. But he held her eyes a moment longer and she wasn’t so sure what he knew or saw, and she decided to let it be. 

Henry guided them through something he called sun salutations, and told Regina to stand or sit down whenever she felt dizzy. Which was kind of frequently. But every motion of her body made her feel better, made her feel tired for sure, but also hopeful, and stronger, as her muscles released the tension, as she stopped thinking for a few blessed minutes at a time, concentrating on doing what Henry told her to do. 

Regina found that she actually liked it—she liked the stretching, the twisting, how Henry counted out and talked the whole way through, as if he’d done this many, many times before. He didn’t know what everything was called, so he’d say “this one” and “okay now that one” and Regina bit back her smile, and saw how eagerly her sister obeyed Henry’s commands, and was reminded of herself. 

And at the end, when Henry showed them how to lie in the resting pose, Regina stretched her hand out to Henry and Zelena, on either side of her, and they both squeezed back. 

Henry fell asleep seconds later—he took after his mother, Regina thought, fondly, and she felt Zelena’s arms wrap quickly around her waist as she let go of Henry’s hand to sit up. 

Zelena looked at Henry and grinned, poofing him onto Regina’s bed. 

“He’s so good, Regina,” Zelena said in a moment of unguardedness that was becoming more and more frequent. “I hope my daughter loves me half as much as he loves you.”

“They are who they are. I got lucky. He’s as much Emma as he is me, and he’s more himself than either of us could ever hope to be,” Regina responded absently, looking up at her son. 

“So about that. Sis, could I talk to you about Emma?”

Regina stiffened slightly. 

“No, no, it’s nothing bad. It’s just—“ Zelena hesitated. “Look, I’ve spent some time with her and I think you two need to talk. How do I put this? She’s a mess, Regina. And it seems—rather unecessary. You’re better, now, aren’t you?”

“A mess?”

“Her godforsaken boyfriend—she’s also making people crazy—Snow, Snow of all people—came to me and asked me what to do. She doesn’t sleep. She sits up all night with those body part books. She won’t let anybody near her. If I didn’t know better—“

“Be careful, Zelena.” A note of warning entered Regina’s voice.

“I’m not saying—she’s just—I’m worried,” Zelena exhaled loudly, exasperated. “I could do the same magic. To help you. But she won’t let me. She doesn’t trust me—“

Instantly, Regina understood. “No, it’s not that,” Regina said gently, reaching out to touch her sister’s arm. A gesture of comfort. She knew this pain in Zelena’s voice all too well because she had struggled with the same thing for so long—the consequence of a life lived in order to hurt others. No matter how reformed now. “Not that. I think we’re very much past that.”

“Then what the hell is going on?”

Regina just looked at Zelena, then rested her head against her arm. Minutes ticked by. 

She had known, of course, that there was cost of this experiment to Emma. She hadn’t known what cost. She hadn’t even thought about how her being sick would drive Emma into this kind of fixated obsessive solitude. It was default for her, maybe. But it really couldn’t continue. 

Regina shook her head, lifting it a bit, felt dizzy, and leaned again against Zelena’s shoulder. Zelena didn’t move, as if waiting for a blow to descend, but also didn’t pull away. 

Finally, Regina spoke. “She loves like we love, Zelena. It’s a little broken inside of her. I think she thinks if she lets go at all, she’ll be responsible if something bad happens to me. It’s not about you at all. It’s about her. It’s about me. It’s about her and me.” Regina squeezed her eyes shut and closed her mouth, wanting and unwilling to say anything else. 

She thought about how briefly Emma had hesitated before drawing down beside her in bed last night. How easy it was to hold her, how pliant and gentle Emma became, even in sleep, in Regina’s arms. How this was a new territory. How much her heart had opened, blooming over and over again, cautiously. How waking up into Emma’s open gaze was enough to chase all her fear away, then shoot her through with fear all over again. 

“Oh,” was all Zelena said. And there it was. The pieces beginning to fall into place. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Regina said, lifting her head to meet her sister’s eyes. “Exactly. It’s ... complicated.”

Zelena merely squeezed her arm, and for once, said nothing. 

This thing with Emma—it had grown from something into something else. At no stage had she been prepared for Emma. From the moment she’d shown up with Henry Regina had felt too strongly, too wildly, about her. And then they formed an alliance, and then a friendship. And now. The only thing that made sense was that this was a love story, but Regina still found that incomprehensible. For what Emma would come to mean to her. And perhaps that worked both ways. That Emma too was unprepared. That, even now, Emma was merely doing her best in the best way she knew how: operating, as she had grown up operating, reckless and alone and determined not to lose. 

They sat that way, on the floor, each lost in her own thoughts for a bit, until Regina shivered and Zelena started, and the nurse came in to check Regina’s vitals, and in all the noise Henry stirred and stretched and rose, slipping out of bed at the nurse’s prodding so Regina could get back in, and then Henry looked over Regina’s shoulder at the door and said, “Ma!” and rushed towards Emma, who was balancing several bags in her hands. 

“Oof, kid! Here, help me with this. Hey, Zelena,” Emma said, lifting her chin in friendly acknowledgement. Then: “Hey. How are you feeling?” infinitely softer, as her eyes locked finally on Regina’s. 

This—this had never happened before, the rash of butterflies thrumming and knocking inside Regina’s body, held for mere seconds in Emma’s gaze. And a flush spread on Emma’s cheeks, until Emma looked away, presumably for a place to set her bags down. 

But Regina kept looking at her. Looking as Henry and Emma and Zelena opened bag after bag of food and set a small feast on the table, fussing over where the utensils were and Henry darted out into the hallway to gather three chairs—no, four, so Regina could sit properly, Zelena chided him, who flushed and smiled and went to retrieve the last one, looking until Emma lifted her gaze again to see Regina, and finding her, smiled.

Emma said, “So, um, Whale told me to bring food. Did he tell you?” 

“Yes. He stood over me like the creep fool he is this afternoon and when I opened my eyes he told me I had to stretch, which worked out rather nicely,” Regina nodded at Henry with a smile, “and eat.”

“Well, Emma brought all the food in Storybrook,” Zelena said wryly, eyeing the table. “So you have your pick, sis.”

“Ma, is this all for Mom?”

“It’s to share. She gets to choose first. I had no idea what she would want to eat or be able to eat. So,” Emma gestured kind of helplessly at the packed table. 

Regina dismissed Emma’s hesitation with a literal wave of her hand. “It’s perfect, Emma. Henry, come help me down.” 

In the end, this is what Regina wanted: some broth from the chicken soup. One dumpling, fried, heaven, with vegetables inside. A bite of chocolate cake that made her stomach roil but was worth it. And apple juice. Then she sat a bit. Then she devoured a sleeve of crackers. And a small applesauce. 

Emma watched carefully as Regina selected her food, while Zelena teased Henry about Violet, about school—Regina noted with satisfaction how well the two of them were getting along—and when Regina had decided she turned to Emma and said with all the gentle sarcasm possible, “Emma, food will not break me. Eat something. All of you, eat.” 

Henry breathed a sigh of relief at the untouched cheeseburger, and the three women laughed heartily. Regina glanced at Emma, and let her heart crash inside of her again. It had been too long since she’d heard Emma laugh. 

Whale, for once, was right. Eating restored her in a way that even Emma’s magic couldn’t. She was a physical body, after all. And Regina let this be a hopeful thing: that maybe eating food meant parts of her were better. She grinned at her family—her family—eating and joking around her. She felt quiet inside, and lucky, and exhausted. 

Emma noticed first, as always. “It’s okay,” she murmured, leaning over. “Get into bed. We’re still here.”

Regina hesitated. “I don’t want you to leave. And,” she looked down at herself, “I absolutely need a shower.”

“I’ll call the nurse to help you, Mom, okay? You take a shower. Like Ma said. We won’t leave until you’re ready,” Henry said, mouth full. 

Zelena eyed her sister quickly. “Henry, how about I take you home tonight, give your moms a chance to catch up? In a little while. Robyn would love to see you. It’s been days since you’ve held her.”

Henry acquiesced easily after receiving a nod from Regina, then he rose and pushed the call button. He was at that weird age where some childish things still gave him pleasure while other tasks he rejected out of hand, like, say, cleaning up his room. 

Emma said, “Zelena, are you sure? I planned on taking him back to—“

Zelena met Emma’s eyes and cut her off. “Well, if you don’t want a night off, then be my guest. I just am trying to have a family of people who know each other, Emma. And what with my dear baby all better now, I want Henry to feel like he has a place with her. I’m trying really hard,” she finished, pointedly. 

A little heavy-handed, Regina thought amusedly, but effective. Emma furrowed her brow and said, “Okay, thanks. Henry would like that, I guess,” and polished off the rest of the chocolate cake without saying another word, probably, Regina guessed, because she was that tired. 

They left when the nurse came, Emma warily eyeing Zelena, who resolutely ignored her, gathering Henry and his things and the mats and all, and Henry kissed his mothers goodbye. Emma sank into the bedside chair when Regina slipped into the bathroom with her nurse. 

Shedding her clothes, fixing the heat, Regina stood, unassisted for the first time, under the heavy stream of water. She felt stronger than she’d felt in days, and wonderingly ran her hands over her own body, seeing for the first time how much thinner she was, and it scared her even as she realized she could stand now, how she wasn’t receiving a shitty washcloth bath, that she could stand on her feet. 

“Everything okay in there,” the nurse said.

“Yes,” and Regina choked on this word, and tears sprung to her eyes, and she braced herself against the wall as tears rose heavy in her. She cried hard for minutes, breathing through her mouth so that she wouldn’t be heard, then reached for the soap and washed her body once. She felt limpid, relieved, worn out, fed, loved, healing, too much. It was too much, all of this. She wasn’t even sure she had energy for Emma, now. Too exhausted for conditioner, too exhausted to do more than wet her hair, she rubbed a hand across her face and shut the water off. 

The nurse stood there with a towel open, and Regina was grateful for the clinical warmth of this woman who wrapped her up. And yet. The nurse took a look at Regina’s face, and said, with a surprising amount of tenderness, “Everything okay?”

And Regina nodded, and gathered the towel close to her. “Thank you.” 

“Okay. Are you okay to get dressed?”

Regina nodded again, exhaling. 

“Okay then.” The nurse patted the clothes. “They’re here.” She looked at Regina for a second. “You’re getting better, now.”

“Yes,” Regina responded.

“There was a time when I would have wanted you dead,” the nurse said. “But now,” she looked at Regina once, “I see how hard you fight. You’re different now. I never thought it would be possible. I don’t feel that way any more.”

They looked at one another. Regina said, “What is your name?”

“Clara.”

They looked at each other a moment longer, and Clara smiled a bit. “Change is possible, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Regina said, and her voice was heavy, soft, and she knew she could never adequately do this, thank anybody who chose to forgive her for anything she had done. 

Clara merely nodded, and said, “I’ll check on you in a bit, okay?”

“Thank you,” Regina repeated softly. 

Clara shut the door and Regina drew the soft fresh clothes over her head, scrubs again, feeling nervous now.

When Regina climbed back into bed, Emma supported her back and helped her reach for the sheets. Then, wordlessly, Emma reached for her hand and closed her eyes. But Regina said, “No, Emma.”

Emma’s eyes flew open, confused. “No what?”

“Magic, Emma. No magic. Not tonight.”

“I don’t want to risk—“ Emma’s voice was pained or frustrated. “We can’t skip over the time we have, Regina. And tomorrow they’re going to check to see—“

“Emma. No,” Regina said firmly. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Emma said quickly. 

Regina bit her lip and looked at Emma until Emma looked back at her, green eyes shifting through clouds of emotion. “Maybe I need to talk,” Regina said tentatively. “And maybe I don’t really want to talk either. But we have to, Emma. This,” she touched Emma’s hand briefly, ignoring the way that small contact shuddered sparks through her body, “needs some words.”

“Regina, please,” Emma said, and Regina was surprised by the amount of pleading. “I can’t. I’m barely holding it together right now. We just need to keep going—“

“Emma. Jesus. Just—“ and Regina’s stomach curled into knots. “Come here. Like last night. Is that okay?”

Emma’s eyes filled with tears and she just looked at Regina, helpless and overwhelmed. “I can’t,” she said. 

“Why the hell not?” 

“I can’t tell what’s real anymore. Everything feels like too much. I touch you and I—“ Emma, desperately biting back her own tears. “It’s so much feeling—like I know you and all I want to do is be next to you. And I can’t, and I don’t understand, and it’s so confusing, to figure out what’s magic and what’s what I legitimately feel for you, and then there’s Killian—“ and she dropped her head in her hands, tears spilling furiously from her eyes. 

Regina felt alarm. “Emma, what happened?”

“I thought I could handle all of this together. I really, really wanted to. Compartmentalize. But I couldn’t. I just need to be alone. I had to be able to concentrate. On you, on this. So—I left him. But it’s hard this way too. To not to be able to go to anybody. Nobody understands. It’s like it was before—Shit, I didn’t want to tell you any of this. Shit. Why the hell are you making me—“

Regina felt her heart tear inside her chest. Maybe a part of her had always wanted Emma to love her better than she loved Hook. But that wish, this way? Was unutterably selfish. Emma shouldn’t have left him. She should be able to separate, go home, have somebody who loved her touch her, hold her, cook for her, let her escape this, let this fade away a bit before she had to come back. But no, Emma stayed in it. Afraid to move close. Afraid to let go. 

“I’m not making you do anything, Emma. Just breathe,” Regina said gently. Then much more firmly: “Breathe, Emma. In and out.”

Emma did, and her breath evened. They were quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t want this for you, Emma,” Regina said, finally. She reached out to touch Emma’s hair, tuck it behind her ear. “I am getting better,” she said softly. “You didn’t need to leave him.”

“Don’t you see, Regina,” Emma whispered, turning her head away from Regina. “I had to. No living person—outside of Henry—matters to me more than you. Never in my life. And I didn’t understand at first. It would have been wrong for me to stay with him. Knowing. What love required of me. But it, this, still feels wrong. It’s frustrating. I don’t know how to make it—the magic—stick. Like at any moment I could drop and you could slip away—“

“Emma, take off my cuff.”

Emma lifted her head, surprised, and said, “What?”

“Take off my cuff.”

“No. We don’t know—“

“You do not get to choose for me,” Regina said, gritting her teeth. “You promised. Take it off. Now.”

Emma looked at her mournfully, dismay at her own failure written clear across her face. She sighed and slipped the cuff off of Regina’s arm. 

Regina felt the familiar twinkling inside of her, and braced herself for pain, and when none came, small sears yes but no explosions, she relaxed and gave the first genuine, no-holds-barred smile she’d given in days. 

“See,” Regina said. “It feels okay.”

“It does?”

“Yes, it does.” Regina reached for Emma. “Please come here, Emma,” she whispered. 

This time, Emma acquiesced, climbing over the railing and leaning her back all the way against the railing so no part of her body touched Regina’s. Regina let her be, understanding her, also afraid, as afraid as Emma was. But she did reach her hand out to touch Emma’s shoulder, and summoned a bit of magic. 

Emma reacted instantly. “No! Regina, you’re not well yet!”

“Emma, my body won’t give you more than it’s capable of giving. It’s just a little. And Zelena could balance you out, but I really don’t want her—“ and she abruptly cut herself off, because what was the rest of that sentence, really? That Regina didn’t want Zelena physically close to anybody else Regina was in love with?

Was in love with?

Stunned, Regina froze. 

“Regina? It’s okay if you don’t want to—“

Startled back into movement, Regina summoned a magic, and allowed it to flow through both of their bodies. Warmth, certainly. And she felt how completely out of balance Emma was. Emma had been giving Regina too much, not taking enough time between sessions. And now Regina was better and it was literally at Emma’s expense. Regina felt sad, and then concentrated harder, and found the place that needed her attention, this light, more than any other, was Emma’s heart.

They lay there, rigid as small stones, the only contact Regina’s hand on Emma’s shoulder, gentle, and Regina focused and coursed magic directly to Emma’s heart, and Regina was exhausted, sure, and this is why it must have happened, why suddenly she felt certain barriers inside of her collapse, and she felt how much she loved Emma, liked loved-her loved-her, and she knew, unequivocally, that Emma could, in this very moment of connectivity, see and feel how much and exactly in what way Regina had come to love her. 

And suddenly Regina didn’t care. Suddenly the effort of keeping up the illusion was too much. 

This counted as talking, right?

And Emma could pull away at any moment, break contact whenever it was too much or wrong for her. 

So Regina, weighing all of this, hesitated only for a split second before she allowed Emma to see the smallest and most important and, so there would be no confusion, no thinking this-was-in-the-past, most recent thing, this:

Sitting tonight at their Whale-induced impromptu feast. When Henry bit into his dinner. Laughing at how much relief a cheeseburger brought him. Shifting her eyes to Emma, who for the moment was totally wrapped up in Henry’s joy. Thinking, suddenly and unabated: I want to be hers. I want her to be happy always. And how Emma’s eyes had returned to hers for a moment, wondering, and Regina had simply smiled at her and cast her eyes down to her soup, stunned again by her rogue thoughts, which were only: Regina loved Emma. Loved her strong and deep and with everything inside of her. Wanted to build a home with her. Not indirectly. Directly. To wake up with her. Like she had that morning. 

Regina unconsciously squeezed Emma’s shoulder a bit more, intentionally letting this moment, this memory, this realization, flow from her into Emma, resisting in herself the impulse to get up or mute it or break contact, resisting until the moment had reached its own completion, and then opening her eyes, wet from effort, shaken by her own brazenness, to Emma’s open eyes, wide open and bright and filled with tears. 

Regina released her grip on Emma’s shoulder, but it was Emma who bridged the distance between them, first tangling her fingers with Regina’s. Her eyes flicked to Regina’s for a second, and the hesitation written across both of their faces was palpable. But: the rightness of this. And once again, Regina tugged Emma’s arm down just a bit. But this time, Emma leaned down and kissed Regina. 

Extraordinary. Yielding. Emma was so soft, all lips and pressure and gentle, and Regina’s free arm wrapped around Emma’s body, pulling her closer, until Emma rested more of her weight on Regina’s body, and Regina slipped her tongue between Emma’s lips, enjoying, wicked and hot, the tremble through Emma’s body, and feeling her own respond as strongly when Emma opened her mouth fiercely against Regina’s and pulled their bodies even more fluidly together. 

They held on like this for a long time, kissing slow and soft and then deeper, hungry, and then soft again, and Regina felt consumed in the best and only way. Neither of them made an effort to control the magic coursing through themselves and each other, and it heightened everything, until Regina felt Emma’s fingers tracing her face, and she pulled her closer, deeper, in, kissing her and kissing her. 

When they broke off, Emma hid her head in the pillow beside Regina’s face and Regina ran her hand through Emma’s hair. Emma murmured something lowly that Regina didn’t catch, and Emma just shook her head, drawing Regina as close as she possibly could, tangling their legs and arms and pushing her face into Regina’s cheek, breathing her in, controlled, so controlled. Regina exhaled softly. 

There was nothing in the entire world like this. Nobody deserved this. Emma, shining hotly beside her. Loving her, Regina was sure, knowing certainly and with a confidence she had never felt before, not with anybody she’d loved before. Emma. 

This time, they held on tightly without pretending, and although they didn’t move or talk, neither of them slept for a long, long time. 

\----

In the morning, Regina woke to an empty bed, and instantly ached for Emma’s absence, feeling suddenly very afraid that she had done something wrong, again, but Clara was there, and all she said, mildly, was, “She’s downstairs.”

“Thank you,” Regina said, already overcome and exhausted. The pain had risen overnight; maybe Emma was right, that the sessions needed to be that frequent. But no. She pushed the thought away. Not at that price. 

“Is that all you say,” Clara said, and smiled at her. A real smile. 

“Lately,” Regina groused. “Yes.”

Emma was downstairs, waiting for Regina to be brought for testing. And it was as horrible as it had been in Boston, and some new doctor came in and ordered a biopsy, and Regina wondered at where they had suddenly procured all of this medical help, real doctors, but one glance at Emma’s tightened lips, remembering how breezily Zelena had illustrated the “new wing,” Regina remembered once more that people would do crazy shit for her, all because they believed she was worth keeping. 

Zelena came, too, and Snow. Henry was at school. Emma did not come close, did not touch Regina, but gazed at her with an unmistakeable softness, which warmed Regina from the inside out, and Zelena darted quick glances between them, smiling in the most obvious way. 

When it was all said and done, the new doctor came with Whale and said, “Good news and bad news.”

Henry glanced nervously at Emma, who shot him a tiny smile. 

“The cancer is—and this is extraordinary, as you know—mostly gone. No trace. Except here,” and he pointed at a picture of something that looked blurry and blobby, “and here,” and he pointed at a place that surrounded Regina’s heart. “So, well, ah, Dr. Whale has told me about your—well, less conventional methods, which seem—and I don’t ever remember reading about magic, but they seem to be working.”

At this, Regina shot a glance at Emma, who gazed unapologetically at the doctor, and Zelena, who shuffled a little guiltily. Who the hell was this poor doctor man and what had they done to him?

Emma stepped in swiftly. “We could keep trying.”

“You could, but it seems like—it seems maxed out. I don’t know. It just needs more, more something,” he said. “Or we could try the radiation again.”

“Could I try?” Emma said. “Like now? Now I know where to focus maybe—“

The doctor, surprisingly, nodded yes, and Emma sat down and reached for Regina’s palm.

They’d never done this in front of other people before, and Regina felt nervous, suddenly, as if she’d be exposed. Reading her thought, Emma smoothed her thumb softly over Regina’s hand, and opened the conduit between them. 

She went straight for Regina’s heart, and Regina gasped quietly, feeling Emma flood her with magic, strengthening and strengthening until light shined in her eyes and radiated out and she was floating above and within her own body, shining and shining. She wondered if anybody else could see it, and then she surrendered completely, wondering nothing. 

Minutes, hours? passed. And the current between them faded, and she heard voices calling her name: “Mom?” “Regina?”

“I’m okay,” she said, turning towards Emma. “What happened?”

Emma’s eyes wrinkled up. “I’m not sure. I saw something,” she said slowly. “That maze.” 

“Oh,” said Regina. “That. That dream keeps coming. I don’t know what it means.”

“I think I do,” Emma said. “The sack—it’s got hearts in it. Lots.”

“Shit,” Regina mumbled, and her stomach dropped. 

“No, no no,” Emma said. Everybody in the room was staring at them. “Look, doctor, could we give it another night?”

“You do whatever you think is best,” and Regina stared at him, this odd doctor who would let a non-doctor tell him what to do. 

When the doctor walked out, Zelena sidled up, glancing at his retreating figure. “Sis, we had to made some—modifications to him. He’ll be back to new when you are. We borrowed him.”

“Borrowed him?! The hell? From where?!”

“Well, he responded to our job announcement, so he came of his own free will, and we set him up beautifully in an apartment, but we can only keep him here a little while longer. We needed somebody who would allow for magic and had doctor training. So we hypnotized him a little, and when you’re better we’ll send him off and he’ll be fine. We’ll give him money,” Zelena said, “And a car. Maybe,” and her eyes glanced towards Henry, “we could make sure a couple of these Storybrooke kids go to medical school.”

“No way,” Henry responded. “Author, remember?”

Zelena sucked her teeth and Regina said, “Enough. I actually have no idea what kind of mess you made but I trust that it’ll be fine and you will fix it,” emphasizing these last two words, “when this is all said and done. Now, Emma. I don’t know how a dream has anything to do with this. Maybe it’s time for a more conventional approach.”

“I agree,” Snow said. “We can’t keep this up. And you’re tired, Emma,” she said, and Regina, horrified, watched Emma yank her arm away from Snow. 

“Emma,” Regina interjected sharply. “I’m going to be fine. You have to get a grip.”

Emma’s eyes, on fire, furious, looked up at Regina, but something in Regina’s gaze made her think twice, extinguished that fire, and she turned to her mother and said, softly, “I’m sorry, Mary Margaret. I’m really not thinking straight.”

Snow looked at Regina in surprise and appreciation and said, “I know, honey—”

Before Snow could continue, Regina turned to Henry. “What do you think?”

Surprised, he looked at his mother. “I think—I think you should follow your gut.”

Regina held his eyes and nodded. “Okay. One more night.”

“I have an idea,” Emma said quietly. “Regina, could you tell us about the dream?”

“Emma, I think you’re paying too much attention to this dream. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a fever thing that happens.”

“When does it happen?”

“Who knows. Since I got here.”

“Regina, please. Just describe it.”

Regina sighed, and she did. She described the wall, she described the pieces. Described the sky, but left out the part about how she considered going there. Allowing her body to die. 

“Is that all of it?”

“Yes, Emma, that is all of it.” Regina bit back. “This is intrusive.” Emma fell silent and looked away. 

David said, “Emma, what is that about?”

Emma didn’t answer her father. Instead she said, much more gently, “Regina, is it okay if I try again tonight?”

Regina closed her eyes. Maybe it was everything, but she felt flayed, skinned, scared and open, and she wanted to cry. Tears rose and threatened to fall. Goddamnit, Emma. 

“Mom, it’s okay,” Henry said quietly, and suddenly she was enveloped in his arms. She did not cry, but she held onto him as if he was a raft, suddenly the only thing that made sense, familiar. “I’m scared too,” he mumbled into her hair. “But everything is going to be okay.”

He held onto her for a long time, and when she looked around everybody had left, and it was just her and Henry. 

“Where did they go?” she said, alarmed. 

“Out. It was good. It’s too many people, Mom. They’re always here. They didn’t go far.”

“Henry, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what? For surviving? For fighting really hard? For letting everybody help you? You’re doing so good, Mom. I’m so proud of you. Don’t be sorry for anything.”

She sighed and clasped his hand. 

“Are you gonna let Emma help you?” he asked. 

Regina hesitated. “Of—course.”

Henry studied her face. “Do you not want her to help you?”

“Henry, no. I think—“ and she chose her words carefully, “When you love somebody, you don’t want to ask too much of them. You don’t want to see them hurt because of you. It’s like that for me with Emma.”

“Emma’s family, right? She’s your family, not just because of me? You think of her that way?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have to let her.”

“No, Henry, I don’t.” Regina exhaled, and reached her hand out to touch Henry’s head. “Let me explain. I don’t have to let her do anything. I just want her to choose herself. I want her to come first for herself. Then I would feel better taking what she offers. Because I would know that as much as she loves me, she loves herself too.”

Henry looked at her for a minute, true realization dawning. “Mom, you really love her.”

“Yes.”

“Like, you love her love her.”

“Yes.” 

“Does she know?”

“Yes. I think so. If she wants to know. I ... showed her.”

“How? With magic? Or—“ and his face screwed up. 

“With magic,” Regina hastily answered. “I gave her a memory of mine.”

“Oh.” He paused. “I see the difficulty.”

Regina laughed then, surprising herself with the bark that left her throat, and Henry leaned in to her, suddenly contemplative. His voice broke the stillness after a bit. “It would be incredible if you were each other’s happy endings,” he said. 

___

 

“Kid, it’s time,” she heard Emma saying softly. “Let grandma and grandpa take you home, okay?” She lifted him and suddenly his warmth was gone from Regina’s side. 

Regina mused, half-awake, that one of the unforeseen benefits of this whole ordeal was getting all these cuddles. 

She’d dreamt of the maze again: soft and small, she kicked the bag and the bag murmured, and she felt something on the other side of the wall, wind or movement or open space, but this time she felt trapped in the maze. And Emma had disturbed the dream again, and now she was awake. 

When she returned, Emma took Regina’s hand and the magic began through them again without a word. 

“Is this okay?” Emma asked. 

“Yes,” Regina answered.

Emma dove for Regina’s heart again, circling magic, completely and utterly focused. Regina exhaled, feeling a strenthening in her she’d never felt before. The light spread through her entire body, washing it and emanating from her heart, from the center of her chest. 

And suddenly she became aware of Emma’s hand, of Emma’s body, and she heard Emma give a low moan, or did she, was it just she could feel Emma, and now she realized that Emma had never put the cuff back on, and her magic was rising to mingle with Emma’s, and fuck, as if a current switched between them the build became intensely erotic, desire shaking through her while Emma healed her heart, the sensation of energy in her hips and the different magic in her heart was overwhelming—this needed to stop. 

Who knows how many minutes they had sat there before Regina pulled away from Emma’s hand, dizzy and aroused, meeting Emma’s eyes, wanting to satiate the incredible heat pooling low in her, trying but not even trying any more to get a grip, and her eyes met Emma’s, whose lips were parted and eyes darted down to Regina’s lips, the heat between their bodies was palpable. 

She struggled to get her words right, then abandoned her words, saying only, “Help me up,” and Emma braced her arms around Regina, and Regina leaned into Emma’s ear, and Regina—god help her—pushed her lips against Emma’s ear, and said, “Shower,” and then breathed, just a little, just enough to feel Emma’s breath hitch, then Regina darted her tongue out and exhaled and ran the tip of her tongue across Emma’s earlobe, gathering it in her mouth hotly.

Emma let out a strangled gasp, and Regina murmured again, “Shower,” and Emma picked her up and Regina wrapped her legs around Emma’s waist and Emma carried them both into the small room adjacent. Emma set her down on the counter and knelt swiftly, looking up for permission, and Regina gripped the counter and spread her legs and Emma lifted the gown and slipped off Regina’s panties, soaked, and without preamble ran her tongue against Regina’s center. 

It didn’t help—or it did—that this magic, as it had been earlier—coursed through them both, and Regina’s field of vision was marred by static, and this took absolutely no time at all, feeling Emma, and she felt her pulse stagger and her body convulse around Emma’s mouth, her fingers gripping Emma’s hands, and she came once this way. And Emma did not let her go, Emma softening her tongue and dragging her lips across Regina until they both felt the build rise in Regina again, and this time Regina held onto Emma’s head and ground her hips in a circle around Emma’s mouth, and Emma moaned, and at this sound and vibration through her Regina exploded, crying out and feeling everything course through her: love, fear, magic, desire, as one. 

She slid off the counter like a puddle into Emma’s lap, and Emma kissed her neck feverishly, running her hands all over Regina’s body, and Regina wrapped her arms around Emma’s neck and just breathed, feeling herself come back to earth as her—her Emma—struggled to contain her own want, and Regina bent back into Emma’s ear, and ran her tongue down the inner ridge, then down Emma’s neck, and Emma let loose a string of profanities when Regina’s tongue found a pulse, nipping at her. 

Tongue working Emma’s neck, Regina lifted her hand to turn the shower on, then again to remove their clothing, and she found Emma’s mouth and kissed her deeply even as Emma grinned quickly into her lips. “C’mon,” Regina said. “Up.”

She backed Emma into the shower and kneaded her nipples with one hand, back and forth, while she bent down and ran her tongue from neck to thigh and back again. Emma bucked her hips against Regina and quickly, now, bit and then ran her tongue through Emma, same but not the same, using the magic swirling through and between their bodies to identify what she liked, what she wanted, cheating, sure, and then pulsing her tongue with a surety against where Emma needed her most, no fingers, just this, and Emma came, fisting Regina’s hair in her hand, bucking and thrusting into her mouth, and Regina stayed until the trembling ceased and Emma pulled her up by her shoulders and hugged her. 

Surprised, Regina allowed Emma to pull her close, and they stood there for long minutes, the hot shower beating down on them as every possible inch of skin touched between them. She felt Emma’s heart beating quickly, even as the orgasm dissolved inside of her, rapid fire. And Emma shifted and Regina knew what was coming. 

And yes. 

Emma did not let go when she murmured, “I love you too, Regina. I do. I really, really do. So much.”

And Regina pulled her tighter, winding her arms around her neck, sated now for the first time in ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more left!!!!
> 
> Let me know what you think / and if anything feels unresolved, tell me that too. I've tried to map it to cover all the loose ends, but I might miss stuff. Maybe they're something you're curious about & want to see finished. 
> 
> xox


	5. Mouth of the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. 
> 
> Mention of genocide here, specifically that slaughter of the village EQ did awhile back. That could trigger, so here is your warning. 
> 
> Recompense, forgiveness. 
> 
> We start out with a little smut, all in the service of plot.

They had made love all night. 

Emma had darted out to the nurse’s station and they took one look at her and were like Whatever we will not check on Regina OK and she darted back and locked the door and they made love feverishly until the morning. Soundproofed room and all. 

Magic let them sustain themselves that long, the same magic that was working hard to heal Regina. Emma had said, “Two birds with one stone,” and rocked her fingers between Regina’s legs, and Regina gasped and clung, and by the time light peeked in through the curtains, the two had repeatedly sated each other. Regina brought Emma in for a long, sweet kiss and let her go, saying only, “Come back later. And don’t be afraid.”

And Emma had only smiled and kissed her cheek and then kissed her more and Regina said quietly, “I love you, Emma,” and Emma, stunned, pulled back and literally poofed out of the room. 

Then she poofed right back, because—that was dumb, and Regina laughed, and Emma quieted her laugh with another kiss, and then whispered, “I will be back later,” and poofed away for good. 

Regina waved her hand, clearing the scent from the room, fixing her hair, fixing her bedsheets, wondering if there was time for a shower, unlocking the room—

Rumpel came by one more time to see Regina, just ten minutes or so after Emma vanished the second time. 

He said, “What’s happening in that dream has to do with making you better.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Regina asked him, cheeks still suspiciously flushed. 

“You’re not the only one who needs to atone,” he said. “I will be back later.”

___

 

She slept, letting everything go. 

After school, Henry came by. For stretches. 

Emma did not come back until the late afternoon, and Regina dozed in resting pose while Henry flipped onto his belly and played with his phone.

Rumpel followed her, and so did Snow and Charming. But Rumpel spoke first. “Regina, let’s try. I think it makes sense to have everybody here. I think this is who is in that bag—just now, in your psyche, everybody who your heart is dealing with on a daily or semi daily basis. Think of the hearts in that bag like grit in an oyster. Pearls.”

She responded dryly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Am I in there?”

“I don’t know.”

He held his hand out to Regina, who looked at him, and, finding nothing malicious, sighed and accepted.

Rumpel’s magic was so different from Emma’s—familiar in a way, from the days back when he trained Regina, all husk and smoke and Enchanted Forest. She felt his fingers twitch, and remembered herself. 

She brought them to her maze, and suddenly he was there with her, standing beside her. She opened the bag and heard his voice clearly call from inside. 

Regina lifted Rumpel’s heart-not-heart, his dream-heart, out of the bag, and turned it over in her hand. It was bright, purely bright, glowing as fresh as it must have when he was a child, and he sucked in a breath, looking at this unexpected gift. 

“No time like the present, dearie,” he said, and he puffed out his chest.

Regina rolled his eyes, and shot her hand out, trying to minimize the pain—and her fist collided into Rumpel’s chest and her eyebrows shot up and she nearly dropped the heart.

He reached out and took it from her and brought it to his own ear. “Oh.” He looked at Regina doubtfully.

“What?”

“It’s weird, Regina.”

She bit back her irritation and her rising fear. If this didn’t work, she could die. And hadn’t she just fucking decided to live? “What, Rumpel?”

“It’s not for me,” he said, looking at her, considering. “It’s for you.”

“You want to put your heart in me?”

“Think about what that requires of you, Regina. This is your dream, this is your world. Why would I—“

And Clara’s conversation with Regina—I would have killed you, but now—echoed in her ears. 

“Forgiveness.”

They stood, considering each other. 

Regina spoke again. “If you put that heart in me, I have to forgive myself for what I did to you. But do you forgive me?”

“That’s the bitch of forgiveness. What will keep you from living is not whether or not I forgive you. It’s whether or not you truly forgive yourself. And to forgive yourself, you’ve got to reckon.”

Regina rolled her eyes again. “This seems like a lot of work.”

“Yes, well, it would seem that living is generally a lot of work.” He held the heart in his hand. 

“Then there’s no point in this. Let’s go back—“

“Regina, I’m willing. If you are.” His voice caught strangely as he looked at her. “This was—this was my fault. I should be the first one. If you can stomach this.”

She stared at him, cogs rolling internally. Then she shut her eyes. 

Forgiveness. How did this work?

A rush of guilt and tremendous fear took her over. Oh. Taking responsibility. For his suffering, in that cage. For keeping him dirty and unfed. For lying. For trying to kill him. She let it pass through her, each discrete memory. She put her hand on the heart in Rumple’s hand. She closed her eyes again. She saw herself, a girl, a woman, making decisions. Being afraid. Causing so much damage, in her fear. Tears wet her cheeks but she felt strong. She cast her eyes up nervously. 

He nodded only, taking her in, wisely saying nothing. 

“Now.”

And as she said it, she felt the final wall drop between who she had been and who she was now, and she absorbed the slam of this new heart, which fit seamlessly on her existing heart, which was, in fact, her heart, all of it—and she felt her love for this twisted, flawed man, and love for herself, twisted and flawed as she was and had been and sometimes might still be in the future. 

She opened her eyes with a gasp, and Emma’s hands instantly touched her shoulders, and she let go of Rumpel, who merely sat back in the chair, watching her with unguarded respect. He said, “She did it. Who’s next?”

“No—“ Regina started, then leaned back. She took stock: she was neither exhausted nor in pain. The emotional shock of that moment did not kill her. In fact, she felt stronger. She exhaled, suddenly terrified at the task ahead of her. “I mean, I should. But—“

“You don’t have to, Regina,” Emma said, eyeing Rumpel.

“Yes, she does,” he said snappishly. “Regina, take her next so she understands.”

“No!” Regina spat out. Her heart raced. Emma in there with her. That task was too large. “No,” she repeated, quieter, as Emma’s eyes grew large, not understanding. “Snow. Snow next.”

“Okay,” Snow said quickly, barring both Emma and Rumpel from talking again. “Okay. I’ll sit, where?”

Rumpel got up but Emma sat motionless, concern and desire and helplessness clouding her eyes. Regina held out her hand to Snow. “Our bodies are going to stay right here but I’m going to take you to a place in my mind where a dream has been arising. It’s safe, I think. But I’ll show you when we’re there.”

Snow nodded, and took her hand, and they were off.

From the outside, it just looked as if the women had gone still; not disappeared, but just gone still and breathing. Even in this state, a part of Regina could feel Emma looking at her, and she ached to go to her, but it was not the time. 

This time, a sliver of moon shined. Snow looked up automatically at the sky, and Regina wondered what this meant, wondered briefly if Snow had ever just wanted to escape. She shook the thought off and said roughly, “Snow.”

“We’re here?”

“Yes,” Regina said, softer. Snow looked down and saw the bag pulsing. She dropped down onto one knee and looked up at Regina, asking, “This is the bag Emma was talkinga bout?”

“Yes.”

Snow opened the bag without hesitation and, much like Rumpel must have, saw or heard her heart. Regina looked at her curiously. “How did you know which one is yours?”

Snow looked at the heart for a minute. “I—I don’t know. It’s impossible not to recognize it. I just know it’s mine. Can’t you tell the difference between them?”

“I can, but I have to listen to them so carefully. For me, they talk really low. Can you hear them?”

Snow shook her head no, and then tilted her head, holding the heart in both hands. “Now what, Regina?”

Regina sighed, feeling way too vulnerable and open and verging on humiliated. Tears rose in her eyes. 

Snow took a step forward and embraced her. Regina hugged her back and then took a step back. 

“I forgive you for everything, Regina. And I know this is for you.”

“How on earth do you know?”

“Because my heart is already here,” and Snow tapped her own chest. “So this one must be yours.”

“Yes,” Regina said, and tears began to spill. 

“So do I put your heart in you?”

“I have to forgive myself. For hurting you. For hurting all those people.”

“Oh, Regina,” Snow exhaled. “Haven’t you?”

Rage and hurt welled in Regina. “How could I have possibly?!” she spat out. “If I don’t remember, I could just go back to being who I—“ she cut herself off. 

Snow was quiet, for a minute, for longer than a minute, and then she sat on the ground beside Regina, patting the earth beside her to motion Regina next to her. 

Regina sat, and Snow leaned her head on Regina’s shoulder. “Let’s look at the stars for a little bit, shall we?”

The ease, the sincerity of Snow’s gesture, calmed Regina tremendously somehow. Finally she spoke, eyes facing upwards. “To forgive myself means that I let myself love you, again, like family, that I let myself be myself around you, and I don’t know how you could possibly allow or ever want that.”

“It’s not about me, Regina. It never was,” she said. “And—Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting, Regina. It’s about remembering.”

Regina nodded, focusing intently on the curved blade of moon. “I know,” she responded quietly, eventually. And she did. She sighed. “You’re right.” 

“There was a night when I thought you would kill me, Regina. I had made it all the way to the mouth of the river, the one that led to the largest sea. And the moon shined very full and I was very alone and I was so frightened. There was no cover. I sat by the river. I picked up those stones in my hand, and they weighed as much as this heart,” Snow said slowly, meditatively. “I picked them up, those smooth round stones. And I held them. And I pitched them one by one into the sea. And every time I did, I imagined this moment, this moment when I could bring your heart back to you so we could be what we were supposed to be. A family.”

And at that moment, Snow reached her hand into Regina’s chest, depositing the heart she’d been holding, and letting out a soft noise of delight as she heard or felt the hearts fuse together, now this part of Regina whole. 

Regina knew, had been expecting, was not surprised. This was easier than she thought. Holding onto fear of Snow felt like some sort of atonement, but really, for all the names she called Snow she knew there was a strength and salvation in her that didn’t make sense except for situations like these. 

Snow spoke again. “Regina,” she hesitated. “There’s one more thing.”

Regina felt her throat tighten, and she didn’t respond, unsure of where this was going. 

Snow spoke in a rush. “Please don’t be angry. But I just wanted you to know—I think you two loving each other is right. I think it’s good. And nobody told me,” she said in a rush, earnestly. “I just see. I see it. It’s so obvious.”

Regina was silent, feeling a mix of emotions rise through her, not the least of which, suprisingly or not, was gratitude. Snow didn’t push it. Another minute passed. 

“Let’s go?” Regina asked quietly. 

Snow’s face was still tipped up towards the stars. “In a minute. I want to—I want to feel this for a moment. That we are a family.” She turned her face towards Regina. “It’s all okay, now, right?”

Regina nodded, and grasped Snow’s hand, and they watched for a little while longer. 

_____

 

After Snow, things got easier. Whale volunteered, and she realized that buried under all of her hatred was a kind of amused affection for him, crazy as he was. Charming volunteered, and the low-level dislike faded into a bright love. And Henry was the easiest, Henry who knew things without asking, who stepped into that crumbly wicked maze with her and simply lifted his heart out of the bag and without any ado slipped it over his mother’s heart, and Regina, forced as she was always with Henry to stand in the sunlight, forgave herself deeply and completely for hurting Henry, in the split seconds before he grasped his heart and lodged it in her chest, and she, breathing deeper, clearer now, wrapped her arms around her boy and they came back within two minutes of leaving, lucid and extraordinarily strong and vulnerable. 

Clara stood in the doorway, watching the rotating cast, and Rumpel noticed her, and beckoned Emma closer, asking her something in a low tone. 

“What’s the matter?” Regina asked sharply. She did not want secrets. 

“How many hearts exactly are in that bag, Regina?” he asked.

“Now? After Henry? I don’t know.”

“Two, Mom,” Henry said. 

Clara spoke. “One is mine.” She walked to the bed and sat down beside Regina. 

Regina knew she was right without knowing how. Before anybody could speak, she brought Clara’s hand between hers and transported them. 

They stood together. Daylight was beginning to break in the night sky there, and Regina noticed in the softening sky that small tendrils had begun to bloom in the cracked dirt that piled high above their heads. 

“It will be hard to forgive yourself without knowing what you did,” Clara began, direct and clear. 

Regina nodded, looking curiously at the nurse.

“I had gone to get wood in the forest. You had come through. Something to do with that girl Snow. I didn’t know anything about it. We loved her, but we loved her stupidly, the way you love anybody who stands up against your oppressor and can hold herself in a fight.

“I didn’t know then, for example, that she would throw herself a lavish wedding after the third drought in as many years, that she would invite the kingdom to celebrate a true love when so many of us were starving. At that time, when you came through my village on that fated day, all I knew was that she was our hero. Somebody had housed her the night before. We didn’t expect you to come so fast. In the morning, my father sent us out for wood. Deep into the forest, where we could gather mushrooms as well. Me and my brothers. 

“So. They chopped and I gathered the wood. My brothers grabbed the satchel of mushrooms and ran ahead of me, and left me with a pile too big to carry. I was the youngest and determined to keep up but I simply could not. We left that morning and everything was in order: that early in the morning, steam was pouring out of the bakery, some people had begun their daily washing, children were yelling, and that man with the crooked hat was delivering cow’s milk from his wagon. But when I got back, hours after them, my arms lodged with splinters and my belly crying out for food, there was nothing. 

“Do you remember that day? Do you remember the day you slaughtered my entire village, all because we housed one rogue girl for the night? You did not know their names. I found my brothers’ bodies first, at the edge, and then I found my mother with her throat slit and my father hung in the garden. She was pregnant, my mother. She was pregnant and you killed her. 

“The baker was dead and the oven had caught fire. The children were dead, littered in the street like confetti after a party. The women were dead. The men were dead. The girl I loved—like you love your Emma—was dead. I sat and rocked her and rocked her and when I left I swore I would make you understand what you had done. And then you appeared in the hospital, near death. And I thought about killing you. I did. Every night I came in, I thought about it. And something stopped me. And this must have been what it was. Because as much as maybe you don’t deserve to live, you equally do not deserve to die in ignorance of what you have done. And not forgiving yourself—that is a way to remain ignorant, to hide. 

“If this is the only way to see what you have done, then this is what it must be. I do not want to forgive you. I am not doing a loving thing. I am forcing you to see so that you must see. It is too easy to count this slaughter as one event, a blip on your radar. I want you to see everybody that you killed. I want you to know who you were. I want you to reckon for what you did.

“Do you understand me?” Clara said. 

“Yes, I understand you,” Regina said, calmed deeply, somehow, even though her calm bore no logic and no sense. “I do.”

“I am going to tell you about each of them. I am going to say their names and you must forgive yourself for each one.”

“No,” said Regina.

Clara turned on her, eyes flashing. “How dare—“

“Show me. If you can. If it isn’t too much. Bring me. Show me. So I know. So there is no mistake. So it is more than my imagination, my own shortcomings.”

Clara leaned back and considered, turning over Regina’s proposition. “How?”

“You can share your memories with me. They will remain yours. I will not appear in them when you call them up. Except for this time. I will go as you. I see only what you want me to see.” Regina extended her hand. “Or you can tell me. Either. Whatever. You are right. You know you are right. I did you a tremendous evil and I should see. There is no reason to protect me. Only to protect yourself.”

Clara merely nodded, exhaled, and took Regina’s hand. 

___

Years flashed by in the space of moments. Clara’s brother’s names were Aiden and Tomas. Her father’s name was Lucas. Her mother’s name was Aida. The child, the child yet to be born, was a girl, hanging low and heavy over her mother’s waist. Lucas braided flowers into his daughter’s hair, and she hung on him like a giant, loving every step he took. When Aiden and Tomas fought, Clara never picked sides, although she liked to incite them, stealing things from one and planting them on the other’s bed or in their shoes. 

Regina saw all of it: saw the girl Clara had come to love, a girl of about her own age, maybe fourteen, before the village was slaughtered, before Clara went on the run, living in the forest, eating raw meat as she had to and avoiding the men patrolling the woods who would kill her or worse. The girl: cinnamon-skinned and eyes deep as shimmery pools, kissed her once by the river and Clara, stunned, did not know how to respond, except to kiss her back, and this was the girl Clara looked for first when she returned, wood aching her arms, revenge thick in her mind for her brothers, only to drop the load, one burden replaced by a much more impossible one, to find the village of slain bodies.

When Regina tried to wrap her mind around the horror as a whole, she could not. If she couldn’t contain it, she could not forgive it. 

This needed to be individual, she knew. It wasn’t a village she had murdered, although there was that, too. These were individuals she had murdered, individual lives extinguished, individuals all. 

They needed to be known as such. 

And so she sat, holding to Clara’s memories like a lifeboat, and she sat beside every body in the village and she saw and she learned and she remembered and she wept. 

____

It was not enough.

____

Exhausted, Clara dropped Regina’s hand and fell asleep, and Regina felt the world around her shimmer and distort back into the hospital room. She roused Clara gently, wanting to make sure she could get home safe, and said, “Can I poof you home?” And Clara responded tiredly, “No, I will drive,” and got up to leave. 

Hours had passed. Lifetimes. And still Emma sat in the chair, jerking back up when she heard Regina’s voice and Clara’s response. 

As soon as the door shut behind Clara, Emma climbed in bed beside Regina, wrapping her arms and legs around her and kissing her cheeks and eyelids. “I was worried,” Emma said quietly, kissing her nose and ears and neck. “I was worried,” she repeated, drawing up Regina’s hands to kiss her knuckles and then her palms and wrists. 

Regina exhaled, too overcome by what she had witnessed to respond, allowing Emma to bring her back to her body with her tenderness. 

“Take me now, okay? Please?”

Regina felt her walls rise instantly. After that? Forgiving herself for Emma? “No.”

“Regina. You’re always yelling at me for running away. And look at what you’re doing,” Emma said, voice firm and eyes bright. “I’m right about this one. Please trust me. Whatever just happened, whatever,” and Emma waved in the general direction of the door Clara had exited, “you saw and had to fix, or couldn’t fix, you don’t push me away. Take me in.”

Regina wrapped her arm around Emma, feeling at once disconcerted, and an irrecoverable sense of loss, and surety, that Emma would not love her this blindly if she knew, really knew, what Regina had done. With this, Regina twined their hands and she took them to her maze. 

__

 

It was different this time. It was different because Emma kissed her softly instead of looking around, instead of toeing the nearly-empty heart bag, instead of looking up at the sky, instead of getting down to business. Emma brushed her fingers against the back of Regina’s neck and tipped her head up and kissed her slow and fully. 

And for awhile, this was okay. This was better than okay. Regina felt the stars pulse brilliant and profound above her, felt the earth begin to sway a little bit around her, felt the walls recede a bit. She kissed Emma back and felt all of Emma: her insecurity, her tentative hope, her formidable strength, and exhaled softly as she pulled away, swaying a bit like the ground below her. 

Emma did not let go of Regina when she reached into the bag, but slid her fingers down to rest on Regina’s waist, holding the heart in her hand. 

She leaned into Regina’s ear, grasping her close with her one arm. Emma spoke softly, and Regina, transfixed as she was when Emma took charge like this, did not resist her, let her close the space between them and brush her lips against Regina’s ear. 

“Hey,” she murmured.

Regina swallowed, unwilling to speak. 

“Listen,” Emma said. “That girl you saw the first night I slept in your bed. That girl was my first freedom. You did not cause that pain. That is not something you have to forgive yourself for. I did not understand how I could feel that way about a girl. She wanted to be my friend. I pushed her away. That wasn’t something you did.” She curled her fingers once more around Regina’s waist, ducking her head for a split second to lay a kiss on her throat. “Okay, Regina?”

Regina nodded, overcome. 

“You have more than paid for the crazy shit you did—and my parents did—by raising Henry, raising him so perfect. If I had raised him, he would have had my heart but he would be a runner. You raised him to stay, to be strong, to love clearly, to not be afraid. You raised him comfortable and you raised him well. I know you’ll say, oh, well, if you hadn’t ruined my life from the time I was born then that wouldn’t even have been a risk for Henry. But I don’t know, Regina. Who knows. All I know is that despite the pain—and all life is pain—he is perfect, and he is in large part perfect because you love as fiercely as you do. And now you love me.”

“Emma, this is not something you can do for me. I have to forgive myself.”

“Okay, then do it,” Emma said. She wavered a moment, then she sighed. “Because if you don’t, we don’t stand a chance. Everything we do will be all fucked up and complicated and it will fall apart. And this is true love, right? So we have to do our part.” She slid her hand holding the heart slowly down the midline of Regina’s chest, to her belly. 

Oh. Regina’s breath stuttered. “Like this?” Regina asked stupidly, motioning at their bodies wrapped up. 

“Yeah, like this. Unless—“

“No,” Regina said. “Shh. Be quiet.”

She felt Emma smile into her throat, and a vicious tenderness rose in her, and she gathered Emma into her arms, and she felt: Fuck, the weird cycle of this. Fuck. Forgive herself. For ruining Emma’s life. For hurting her. For creating a lifetime of situations in which all she had learned to do was run. Maybe it was her fault that Emma loved her. Maybe this was all a horrible fantasy she’d created—that loving her was and remained a new torture for Emma—No. She tightened her arm around Emma. Fuck. She shook her head to clear her head. 

“Emma, try,” Regina said urgently. 

Emma pushed the heart at Regina’s chest and it would not enter. Regina felt pain skid through her heart. 

“Regina, do it. Let it go.”

“I don’t even know for what,” she said frantically. “I don’t know what’s left.” Her gaze locked Emma’s. Oh. 

Everything. 

Every slight pain visible in Emma’s gaze, now and since forever, sent guilt and panic through Regina. This is always how it had been. She felt utterly responsible for Emma’s happiness. 

Oh. 

As much as she’d worried about and scolded Emma for diving obsessively into this heal-Regina project, as ridiculous as she knew it was for Emma to think that she alone could and must save Regina, that it was in her hands alone, Regina realized that she did the same thing with Emma. 

She was not responsible any more for Emma’s suffering. She could not be. The day in and day out was firmly in Emma’s hands. Emma, who had love abundantly available to her. Emma, who made choices. Who was an adult. Who had a doting and deserving family to hold her. Who had Regina. 

Their eyes locked, and Emma knew. Emma always knew. Emma’s eyes shone at her. “Your love is worth it, Regina,” she breathed quietly. “You have to believe this.”

They stood there, staring at each other, and Regina felt herself buoyed by this impossible love, this one in five billion love, and Emma lifted the heart to her lips first, kissing it softly, and then pushed it into Regina’s chest. 

Light scattered out and flattened the maze, arcing a rainbow through this, through everything, piercing and scattering, ushering the daylight, and the women held on, watching the maze—which was not a maze at all, but a field—grow and bloom into thousands of small houses. 

And when Regina looked at her feet, the bag pulsed with one lone heart. She lifted the bag, filled with courage, Emma’s hand at her back. She peeked inside, and saw thousands and thousands of hearts, all shining. 

And in that moment, Regina knew that she had not done enough, that she would never do enough. That a lifetime would not be enough time to atone and forgive, even herself. But she could see. She could try to see. 

And she would. Life by life. One by one. 

___

 

The doctor cleared his throat. “Ah,” he said, looking at Regina and Emma’s hands twined on the bed. 

Emma said, “Yeah?” and raised an eyebrow.

It was just the three of them. The doctor shifted nervously on his feet. “Well, we ran new tests, as you know. And that first little blob of cancer—it’s gone.”

“Where was it, doctor?”

He gestured unselfconsciously at Regina’s pelvis. “A tiny bundle of lymph nodes near her cervix.”

Regina’s eyebrows shot up and Emma stifled a smile. “Oh.”

“But your heart, Ms. Mills, your heart is a little better but not all the way. I don’t know what this means. I think we may have to go a more conventional route.”

Regina nodded. “I figured as much. But I think I want to wait on it for a bit. I’m feeling much better. Maybe we monitor me? And see, say, in a week? A month? A year?”

The doctor nodded eagerly, and a frown crossed Regina’s face. Emma looked at her hastily. “Okay, Ms. Mills. We will discharge you soon.”

When he left, Emma broke out into a full grin. “Shower sex fixed you.”

“Partially,” Regina said wryly. “I’m still broken.”

“You’re better,” Emma said gravely, bending down to kiss Regina lightly, a promise for later. “You’re almost all the way better.” They sat still for a moment, and Emma said, “I have to go back to work soon.”

Out of almost nowhere, Regina said, “Will you move in with us, please?”

Emma stared at her. “With you and Henry?”

“No, Emma, with me and Frankenstein and his puppet doctor. Here, in the hospital.” She looked at Emma. “Of course with me and Henry.”

“I—“

“Mom!” Henry burst through the door, Snow right behind him. “They said they’re letting you go home!”

“It would appear they are, Henry.” 

He exhaled a loud sigh and flopped on the bed. “Are you cancer-free?”

Regina hesitated. “Almost. But I’ll be okay, I think. The solution is there. I just need to be able to keep doing what I have to do.” She gazed fondly at her child. “I don’t want you to worry.”

He glanced up at Emma. “Never, because you’re in great hands.” He shot a knowing look between the two of them. “Are we going home now,” he said pointedly. 

“Kid, I don’t live with you.”

“But you want to,” he said back, all of that Mills tact and directness working stunningly well for him.

Snow looked back and forth between them. She said slowly, “It might be a good idea, Emma, to stay with Regina while she transitions back to normal life. You haven’t left her side really in weeks.” 

“Also they’re in love. Right, Mom?”

Emma groaned and Regina’s eyes flashed at Henry before settling on Snow. “She knows, Henry,” Regina said. 

Snow smiled. 

___

Emma moved in. They made love constantly, constantly, until they knew each others' bodies and hearts so well they would compete to see who could get the other to orgasm fastest. 

There were the mornings spent, just as Regina had wanted in those difficult hospital days, to wake up next to her beloved and feel them both safe. 

Then there were nights cuddled, with Henry, on the couch, in front of a movie or a game or talking.

There were family dinners that were, for the first time in anybody’s life, completely free of tension and shining with love. 

Regina got better. 

Emma married her. Emma: all hesitance and bright eyes and hair and strong hands and clear talking. Emma. Emma married her. Because Emma loved her like her best thing. 

Clara came over. She did not become a friend, exactly. But she showed Regina and she showed Regina. And then others came, too, and it became a miniature reconciliation project. And Regina spent literally the rest of her life, up until her old age, turning over the hearts in her hands of the people she had damaged, learning over and over again how to love. 

And it was the hardest thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading through!!
> 
> this is my first multi chapter fic. I thought it would take me longer but i got obsessed and couldn't stop writing. 
> 
> much love. thank you. comment please if you would like.


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